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eelliotss · 4 months ago

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— Borrowed time, part 3

‼️Caleb x reader x Sylus. Reader not MC. University AU. Modern AU. Angst angst angst!

Everyone knows Caleb is in love with MC. Everyone. Including you. But that does not stop him from flirting with you, teasing you, keeping you close. And it definitely does not stop you from falling for him—even when you know you’re just a stand-in, a place holder.

“Had you paid a little more attention, you would’ve known I hated the thunder too.”

word count = 5.2k

i appreciate all likes, comments, reblogs, and asks. i may not reply to all of them, but i want you to know that i reread them over and over 🥺

part 1 | masterlist | part 4

The choir of rain showering down envelops your whole world. Holding yourself close, you hug yourself away from the constant roar of the thunders.

You did not notice the man watching— his gaze lingering on the drenched rag of a person curled up on the roadside.

Another roar tears through the sky, clawing at your chest, sending tremors down your spine. With each shallow breath, you silently pray for the nightmare to be over, to wake up under warm covers in the safety of your own room.

He probably saw the state you’re in—the haziness in your unfocused eyes and the way you blink, once, twice, sluggish and distant. A sigh leaves his lips as he kneels down to your level. With one gloved hand holding his helmet, the other lightly flicks your forehead.

The flick is light—too light for the weight crushing your chest, yet enough to tether you back to reality and bring some focus back into your gaze.

You slowly raise your gaze, meeting his crimson orbs. Unwavering. Sharp. Studying.

His lips twitch—not quite a smirk, not quite concern.

“You look like hell,” he states as he tilts his head, studying you like you’re an amusing puzzle.

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your lips tremble, but no words form.

Sylus exhales, slow and deliberate—not quite a sigh, but something close.

“Can you get up?”

Silence. Only the sound of the rain, the low hum of the storm, and the quiver of your breath fill the air.

He clicks his tongue, running a hand through his drenched silver locks before shaking off the excess water. Then, without a word, he drops his helmet onto your head, fingers swift and practiced as he secures the strap beneath you chin

The sudden weight startles you. But before you can react, you’re lifted.

A sharp gasp catches in your throat as his arms hook effortlessly around you, pulling you up from the cold ground and onto the sleek leather seat.

He swings his leg over the bike, boots steady against the pavement. The engine purrs beneath you, low and commanding.

“Hold tight.”

The words are simple. A command. A warning.

Your hands instinctively clutch his waist, gripping the fabric of his jacket. The sudden yank pushes you flush against him.

But through the turmoil of it all—through the howling wind, the biting cold, the chaos swallowing the whole world as you ride through the roads a little too fast—beneath your fingers, beneath the soaked fabric,

he’s warm.

The contrast is sharp. The world untamed, screaming, tearing everything apart. The situation rushes past you, too quick, too unreal.

Through it all, you—fractured, weightless, drowning— hold onto him— steady, unshaken—like he’s the only rope tying you to reality.

•

“What’s your room number?” he asks as the bike comes to a stop and the deep rumble of the engine fades.

By the time you’ve returned to the resort, the campfire is long gone—reduced to nothing but damp coals and the ghost of laughter lingering in the air.

People scattered, rushed towards shelter, their hurried footsteps splashed against puddles. The storm has chased everyone indoors.

Except for you and him.

You’re still clutching onto him, fingers curled around the fabric of his jacket. The lingering warmth of his body beneath your touch feels foreign.

“Well?” Sylus’s voice cuts through the silence.

You blink, realizing you haven’t answered.

Your lips part, allowing a light whisper to leave your lips.

“409.”

Without a word, he starts walking.

Perhaps it’s because you did not want to be left alone in the darkness of the night again, or perhaps it was because the sudden loss of warmth prompted your body to move on its own.

You trail behind him through the dimly lit halls, the faint hum of electricity buzzing through the silence. Water drips from your clothes, leaving a trail behind as you shiver against the cold air-conditioned corridor.

You steal a glance at him. Sylus walks ahead, hands shoved into his pockets, completely unfazed. As if he didn’t just find you curled up on the side of the road, as if you’re not drenched and shaking beside him.

The two of you stop in front of your door.

You fumble for the key card, fingers trembling slightly, though you’re not sure if it’s from the cold or from everything that’s happened tonight.

“Shh, don’t be scared.”

Soft coos seep through the door.

“I’m here, pipsqueak. I’m here.”

Soft giggles follow the gentle whispers.

“You’ve always stayed with me on days like these, holding me just like this whenever there were thunders.” Her voice is small and fragile—like something meant to be cherished, protected.

Your fingers hover the doorknob, frozen in place.

The storm rages on, harmonizing with the soft giggles on the other side of the door.

You stood there paralyzed, your mind too tired to register whatever it is that your heart is going through.

Sylus leans against the doorframe, watching you hesitate. Waiting.

“So? You gonna go in, or are we just standing here all night?” He finally asks, voice low and edged with amusement.

Your lack of response earns slow exhale from him.

Before you can fall any deeper, before you can drown in the ache clawing at your chest—he moves.

His hand wraps around your wrist, firm and unyielding.

You flinch, eyes finally snapping to him.

He doesn’t say anything—just turns, walking, dragging you with him.

Away from the door. Away from them.

“Sylus—“ Your voice is barely above a whisper, but he doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t loosen his grip.

And deep down, you were glad he didn’t.

You let the warmth of his hand anchor you, let the storm swallow everything else, and let the laughter behind the doorframe fade into nothing.

•

Sylus doesn’t stop walking until you’re deep inside the quiet halls of the resort, the sound of rain and thunder fading into the background.

His grip finally loosens as he stops in front of a door.

Without looking at you, he pulls out his key card and swipes it. The lock clicks open.

“Get in.” His voice is flat, low—an order, not a request.

You linger by the doorway, water pooling beneath your feet.

Sylus exhales sharply for the nth time that night, raking a hand through damp silver strands, sending droplets scattering to the floor. Then, without warning, he grabs a towel from the bed and throws it at you.

It smacks against your chest, snapping you out of your daze.

“Shower.”

You blink up at him. His crimson eyes don’t waver.

His jaw ticks. Another sigh, this one slower, controlled.

More is tossed at you.

A shirt. A pair of sweatpants. His clothes.

They land in your arms, warm, freshly laundered, carrying the faintest trace of him—clean, sharp, and something unplaceable.

Your fingers tighten around the fabric.

“You’re soaked. You’ll get sick.”

It’s not concern. It’s a fact. A simple statement.

When you still don’t move, he clicks his tongue, tone dipping into something dangerously close to impatience.

“Either you go shower, or I’ll throw you in there myself.”

That finally makes your feet move.

You clutch the clothes tighter against your chest and step past him, disappearing into the bathroom.

The door clicks shut behind you.

And only then do you finally exhale.

The warmth of the shower does little to soothe the tightness in your chest, but at the very least, it washes away the lingering cold from the rain, the exhaustion clinging to your skin like a second layer.

When you finally step out, damp hair sticking to your neck, Sylus is exactly where you left him—leaning against the dresser, one knee bent, a towel draped over his head. His silver hair peeks through, darkened by water, stray strands clinging to his forehead. He’s slow with his movements, lazy almost, dragging the towel through his hair before ruffling it out with one hand.

For the first time, you actually look at him. Not just a passing glance, not a flicker of acknowledgement,—but really look.

At the way the dim light carves shadows along his jawline—the cut of his jawline, the slight furrow in his brow, the way droplets trail down his collarbone before vanishing beneath the black tank clinging to his build—damp and unforgiving, outlining lean muscle and sharp edges.

There’s something effortlessly sharp about him, something dangerous in the way he simply carries his frame.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as his gaze flickers up, sweeping over you. Unbothered. Knowing. Like he’s caught you staring.

“Like what you see?” his voice drips with lazy amusement.

You blink, heat creeping up your neck before you compose your features.

“What is there to like?”

His smirk deepens, crimson eyes flickering with something teasing.

“You really are a shortcake.” He smugs as his gaze roams your body. “Looks like my clothes are trying to swallow you whole.”

You glance down. The oversized shirt hangs loosely off your shoulders, the hem brushing against your knees. The sweatpants are cinched at the waist, tied hastily to keep them from slipping.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “It’s not my fault you’re built like a damn tree.”

Sylus snorts, shaking his head as he runs the towel over his hair one last time before tossing it onto the chair. “Move.”

He brushes past you, the scent of clean linen and faint sandalwood trailing behind him. The door clicks shut a second later, leaving you alone in the room.

For a moment, you simply stand there, staring at the empty space he left behind.

Then, with a slow, heavy breath, you make your way to the bed. The mattress dips beneath your weight, soft and warm—a stark contrast to the cold pavement you were curled up on just hours ago.

You sink into it, pulling the blankets over yourself, letting your body finally rest.

But sleep never comes.

Even as exhaustion tugs at your limbs, your mind refuses to quiet.

The storm still lingers beyond the windows, faint rumbles reverberating through the walls. Every moment from tonight replays, over and over again—

The laughter at the campfire.

Caleb’s dismissive jokes.

Caleb’s warmth, his head rested on your lap as the sun sets.

His voice, gentle, whispered—“I’m here, pipsqueak. I’m here.”

And the way the line cut before you could even finish your cry for help.

Your grip on the blanket tightens.

It’s pathetic. How much this hurts. How much he still has a hold on you, even when you know better.

You force yourself to listen to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom, gripping into your own palm like doing so could lull you to sleep.

The blanket feels too heavy. The air, too thick.

You shift onto your side, curling in on yourself, trying to focus on something—anything—other than the ache sitting heavy in your chest.

The shower stops, and a moment later, the bathroom door opens.

Sylus steps out, towel draped around his neck, silver hair still damp, a few strands clinging to his skin. The scent of clean linen and something sharp, something distinctly him, fills the space.

He says nothing, nor does he acknowledge you.

Instead, he crosses the room in that effortless, unhurried way of his, tossing the towel onto a nearby chair before grabbing something from his bag.

You watch from the corner of your eye as he settles into the chair beside the bed, flipping the book open like he’s done this a thousand times before.

Like you’re not lying there, curled up in his clothes, drowning in the silence between you.

Like this is just another one of his quiet nights.

The pages turn, slow and steady, the faint rustle of paper weaving into the distant cries of thunder.

Still, the way the thunder rumbles through the sky, rolling and crackling so close, makes your body tense on instinct. You will your breathing to steady, to calm. But your hands won’t stop trembling.

It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid.

The sudden change from the steady rhythm of pages turning to the faint tap of his fingers against his phone screen causes your brows to furrow in curiosity. You crack an eye open just enough to see him searching something up. His expression remains as impassive as ever, his crimson gaze flicking across the screen, scanning whatever article he’s pulled up.

Then—without warning—he gets up, grabs your blanket, and yanks it off you.

“H-Hey—!” You barely have time to react before he moves, fast and measured, rolling you over onto the bedspread like you weigh nothing.

“What the hell are you—“

He ignores you. Ignores your flailing arms, ignores your indignant protests, and swiftly tugs the blanket around you, tucking you in so tight you can barely move.

You blink, completely stunned. You stare up at him, utterly dumbfounded, as he looks down at you with a face that is, somehow, completely unbothered.

“What the fuck is this?”

Sylus simply plops back down into his chair, cool as ever.

“It’s what they say helps cats with anxiety attacks.” He gestures vaguely towards his phone. “Something about mimicking the feeling of safety.”

Silence. You blink at him.

Once.

Twice.

His lips twitch—just slightly. “You’re welcome.”

You stare at him in disbelief.

“What kind of dumb—this isn’t even—“ You wiggle, struggling against the tight wrap of the blanket. “Sylus, let me out.”

“No.

“Sylus.”

“They say chin scratches can also help calm cats down,” he smirks. “Would you want that too, kitten?”

You open your mouth to retort, but another loud crack of thunder cuts through the room. Your breath hitches before you can stop it.

Silence engulfs the room once more.

He flips to another page in his book.

“Do you hate it that much?” his eyes never leaving the words in front of him. “The thunders.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, hating the way your hands still tremble against the blanket.

“No.”

Sylus hums, the sound low, almost skeptical. He flips another page.

“Convincing. Really.”

You would never admit it, but the tight wrap of blanket around you created a protective barrier between you and the world.

Or perhaps it is the steady rhythm of his breathing. The calm, unshaken presence beside you.

Your eyelids grow heavier.

The storm still lingers outside.

But here, in this quiet space, it’s bearable.

And before you realize it—the world turns dark.

•

Your eyes shoot open.

The room is steeped in deep blue, the quiet hum of dawn settling over the world. The storm has long passed, leaving behind only the faint scent of rain lingering in the air.

You instinctively look around, your pulse quickening as the memories of last night rush in like a relentless wave.

The chair beside the bed is empty. The book he was reading is gone.

He isn’t here.

A strange feeling settles in your chest—one you don’t have the energy to name.

You push yourself up, the oversized fabric of his clothes slipping loosely around your frame.

Right. You need to go.

Sliding off the bed, you grab your things, moving as quietly as possible. The last thing you need is anyone seeing you sneaking out of a room that isn’t yours.

The hallways are eerily silent, save for the distant rustle of the ocean breeze slipping through an open window. You slip into your own room unnoticed, the door clicking shut behind you.

MC is still asleep, curled beneath the blankets, her breathing slow and steady.

You exhale, body weighed down with exhaustion as you strip out of Sylus’s clothes, replacing them with your own. The fabric is warm, familiar.

Sliding your phone onto the charger, you finally crawl into bed, slipping under the covers beside MC.

She stirs slightly, shifting at the dip in the mattress, but doesn’t wake.

The silence stretches, the soft rhythm of her breathing lulling you into something close to peace.

You close your eyes.

•

You’re jolted awake by MC’s sudden exclaim.

“Oh my god, Yn!”

Your eyes snap open, the soft haze of sleep vanishing in an instant. MC is hovering over you, her phone clutched tightly in one hand, her brows furrowed in concern.

“Where the hell were you last night?!” she demands, voice a mix of worry and exasperation. “I called you like, a million times! I was this close to going out and looking for you—” She pauses, eyes narrowing slightly. “But, you know… how I am with thunders.”

You blink, mind sluggish, body too drained to react.

MC huffs, shoving her phone in your face. “Seriously, Yn. I was worried sick!”

You squint at the screen, barely making out the endless stream of missed calls and texts before you sigh, rubbing a hand down your face.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I—”

What are you even supposed to say?

That you got caught in the rain? That you collapsed on the side of the road? That Sylus found you?

That you spent the night in his room?

Your throat tightens.

MC sighs, finally pulling back. “I swear, you’re gonna give me a heart attack one day.” Her expression softens, the frustration fading into something quieter. “You okay?”

The concern in her voice makes your chest ache.

You force a small smile. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

MC watches you for a moment before nodding. “Alright. But don’t ever do that again, okay? If something’s wrong, you tell me.”

You nod, though you don’t say anything.

She plops back onto the bed, stretching her arms over her head. “Anyway, we have a long-ass day ahead of us. Let’s get moving before they start filming without us.”

You hum in agreement, pushing yourself up despite the weight still clinging to your limbs.

The moment your feet touch the floor, a faint dizziness creeps in, but you shake it off.

Today is going to be long. You just have to get through it.

MC chatters away as she gets ready, pulling out outfits and rummaging through her bag. She seems to have let go of last night’s worries, and for that, you’re grateful. You don’t have the energy to explain anything right now.

By the time you both leave the room, the sun has fully risen, painting the sky in warm golds and soft blues. The air is fresh, carrying the lingering scent of rain, but the storm from last night feels like a distant memory—like something only you remember.

When you arrive at the set, the atmosphere is already buzzing with energy. Crew members are setting up, actors are going over their lines, and the director is barking out instructions.

MC quickly joins the main cast, slipping into her role with ease, leaving you to find your own place among the side characters.

“Action!”

The day begins.

It’s hectic—far more chaotic than yesterday. Since most of the key scenes are scheduled to be filmed today, there’s barely a moment to breathe between takes.

You go through your role automatically, delivering lines, hitting your marks, going where you’re needed.

And yet, through the commotion, you can feel him.

“Action!”

You can see him in the crowd, practicing and discussing his lines.

You can see him placing his hand on MC’s head, telling her it’s okay she messed up her part.

“Action!”

Every now and then, between takes, you can see the way his eyes land on you, a certain look that you can’t quite place your finger on.

And every now and then, during any short break he can muster, you can see the way he tries to approach you.

But the simple thought of him makes you sick to your stomach.

“Yn—”

You slip away.

“Where were y—”

Someone calls you over before he can finish.

“Why didn’t you pick—”

Another take is called, forcing him back into position.

Every conversation dies before it can even begin, and you make no effort to change that.

You don’t want to face him yet.

You can’t.

“Action!”

Fortunately, the day is kind enough to be relentless, dragging you from scene to scene, making it easier to ignore the weight of his gaze, the questions lingering between you.

But as the hours pass, the sun burns hotter, the air grows heavier, and a dull ache creeps into your skull.

It’s subtle at first, just a faint throbbing behind your eyes.

“Action!”

Your limbs feel heavier, your head foggy, the world tilting ever so slightly.

You swallow, forcing yourself to focus.

It’s nothing. Just exhaustion. Just the heat. Just the fact that you spent last night soaking wet in the cold for hours.

“Action!”

You push through.

A hand reaches for yours.

“Hey—are you oka—“

“I’m fine, Caleb.” You snap, finally turning to face him, snatching your touch away from his.

You look over his shoulder to find MC waving for him.

“MC’s looking for you,” you state, turning away just as quickly.

“You don’t look—“

The set sweeps him away once more.

The heat is unbearable. It sticks to your skin, clings to your lungs, burrows into your skull with a relentless pulse. Every sound around you—voices, instructions, the scuffling of feet on set—blurs into a distant hum.

“Action!”

You should sit down. You should stop.

But you don’t.

You push through, following the motions, forcing your body to move despite the dull, throbbing ache radiating from your temple.

The sun beats down harder.

Your limbs feel heavy. Your vision swims.

Something is wrong.

“Act—“

A sudden shift—the ground tilts beneath you.

The world spirals. Your stomach churns—everything is slipping too fast.

And then—a firm grip catches your wrist.

Through the haze, crimson eyes lock onto yours, sharp and assessing.

You don’t understand how, don’t understand why— but subtly, nearly imperceptibly—the sharpness in his eyes narrows, just slightly.

His grip tightens.

“It’s not called a dance if there’s no one to catch you when you dip,” a teasing smirk crawls up his face.

You narrow your eyes, a frown following closely.

“Let me go,” you demand, pulling your hand from his. To your dismay, he does not budge.

Sylus hums, tilting his head slightly, his crimson eyes flickering with amusement.

“Let you go?” He scoffs lightly. “Sweetheart, you nearly face-planted in front of half the set. If it weren’t for me, you’d be eating sand right now.”

A flush of heat creeps up your neck—whether from frustration or fever, you don’t know.

“But it did look like you were throwing yourself into my arms just now…”

Your jaw tightens. “I wasn’t—“

“You were.” He grins, lazy and insufferable, before tapping his temple. “Don’t worry, I’ll be generous and let you blame it on heat exhaustion. But next time, try asking before you faint dramatically into my arms, yeah?”

A scoff pushes past your lips, hot and irritated. “I didn’t—“

He cuts you off again, eyes narrowing in mock thought. “Actually, should I be offended? You didn’t even call my name. Isn’t that what damsels in distress do?”

He shifts his grip to hook an arm securely around your waist, pulling you closer as your knees wobble.

You slap at his arm. “I can stand just fine.“

“Sure.” He drawls the word out, clearly not convinced. “If by ‘just fine’ you mean ‘barely upright and just one second away from proving me right.’”

Your glare sharpens, pushing his body away from you. However, your body betrays you as your knees struggle to find balance, causing you to lean just slightly into his hold.

Sylus smirks.

“You love proving me right, don’t you?”

You groan. “Just let me go, Sylus.”

Before he can answer, another presence looms in.

“Yn.“

The teasing weight of Sylus’s words vanishes in an instant.

You tense.

The air shifts—sharp, tight, suffocating.

Sylus’s smirk doesn’t falter, but the amusement in his eyes dims, replaced with something much more calculating.

“I’ll take it from here.”

Caleb takes a step forward, his expression unreadable—but his tone isn’t.

“Let go.”

A muscle in Sylus’s jaw twitches as his gaze sweeps over Caleb, the amusement curling at his lips deepening.

“That’s funny,” he muses, low and almost thoughtful.

Caleb’s eyes darken. “I said, let go.”

Sylus tilts his head slightly, gaze dipping back to you.

“Mm.” His voice drops lower, amusement flickering at the edges. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

The tension snaps tight between them—like a drawn blade, waiting to be swung.

You exhale sharply, yanking your wrist away from Sylus. Caleb’s presence itself is enough to push you off the edge, adding the tension between the two and your head splitting in half definitely does not help.

“I’m fine. I can walk. You two have scenes to film—go do that instead of hovering over me,” you mutter, your glare shifting between them.

Neither of them move.

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Seriously. I just need some rest. Go.”

Sylus studies you for a beat longer, then— with an infuriating smirk, he raises both his hands in a mock display of surrender.

“Whatever you say, kitten.”

He steps back, turning without another word. But, even if you’ve just known him for a few days, you’re well too accustomed to that glint in his eyes. He’s entertained—like he just witnessed something far more amusing than it should be.

You roll your eyes, turning to leave—only to find Caleb following closely behind.

You stop in your tracks.

“Caleb.”

“You’re sick,” he states simply, as if that explains everything.

You let out an exhausted sigh. “I just need a nap. The sun’s too hot. You have a job to do. Go.”

“I’ll take you to your room.”

You groan. “I don’t need you to—“

“Yn.”

Something in the way he says your name—low, quiet, edged with something almost like a puppy left alone—makes your breath hitch.

You swallow, annoyance and fatigue surfacing your expression.

“Fine. Do whatever you want.”

You start walking. Caleb falls into step beside you, silent. The set bustles behind you, voices and movement filling the space. But between you and Caleb, the silence is louder.

The walk back is slow. The ground beneath you feels unsteady, your legs sluggish with exhaustion. The day had been merciless—your body drained from the heat, the lingering weight of last night clawing at your bones.

“I didn’t,” you murmur.

“You almost did.”

You finally reach your door, the cool AC left running inside brushes away a part of your exhaustion.

The door clicks shut behind you. You turn to face him, arms crossed.

“Alright. You walked me back. You can go now.”

Caleb doesn’t move. Instead, he leans against the doorframe, hands shoved into his pockets. “Kicking me out already?” he says with his usual playful tone, a grin plastered on his face.

“Out.”

Caleb sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I just—why didn’t you say anything? You looked like you were about to collapse back there.” He slowly approaches you, placing one hand on your forehead and another on his. “You’re burning up.”

A deep frown crawls up your face, annoyance filling your senses. You swat his hand away, taking an unsteady step backwards.

“Get out, Caleb, I want to be alone.”

His eyes widen ever so slightly, taken aback by your response. A soft chuckle slips past his lips—one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Okay, okay, I’ll leave. Right after I tuck you in.”

You let out a sharp breath, exasperated, but too drained to argue. Caleb takes a step closer, reaching for the blanket, but you snatch it before he can.

“Caleb—“

“You didn’t answer my calls.” The shift is almost imperceptible. His voice is steady, but there is an edge to it—like he is holding something back. His jaw is tense, something unreadable flashing behind his violet eyes.

Your breath catches for half a second and you grip on the blanket tightens, but you school your expression. “My phone was dead.”

“Where were you last night?” His voice is still too calm. Too measured.

You exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose, exhaustion pressing into your skull. “Caleb—“

“Do you know how long I spent looking for you?” his tone is lighter than it should be, laced with something almost amused—but his eyes, his stance, the slight clench of jaw betray him. “I ran through the rain like a desperate idiot, calling for your name like a lunatic, only for you to act like I don’t exist the next day?”

His voice isn’t desperate. It’s frustrated.

You don’t know what to say to that. Instead, you let out a dry laugh, shaking your head.

“Yeah? That worried? Sure, Caleb. Sure,” you pause. “Do you expect me to be grateful?” sarcasm drips from your words.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” his eyes narrow.

“No? Then what are you saying?” You cross your arms, a bitter laugh slipping past your lips. “Because I remember calling you. I remember my hands shaking so bad I almost dropped my phone. I remember hearing your voice and thinking, ‘finally.’” Your throat tightens. “And then I remember you cutting the line.”

Caleb stares at you, his expression unreadable.

“I was in the middle of god knows where, drenched like a drowning dog, kneeled down on the road next to some fucking dumpster,” you continue, voice shaking despite yourself. “But it wasn’t a great time. You were busy.” A humorless laugh leaves your quivering lips.

His jaws ticks.

“You know how MC is with thunders,” he says, voice quieter now. Almost defensive. “But as soon as she fell asleep— I didn’t think—“

“Exactly.” Your words are barely above a whisper. “You didn’t think. Had you paid a little more attention, you would’ve known I hated the thunder too.”

Something in his face shifts. His breath catches. For the first time since you met him, he looks like he miscalculated.

The silence is thick, suffocating. His gaze lock onto yours, searching—for what you weren’t sure.

Finally, he exhales through his nose, looking away. His hand grips the doorknob, knuckles paling slightly.

His voice is quieter when he speaks again. “I didn’t know.”

A bitter smile tugs at your lips. “Yeah. You didn’t.”

He remains there for a second longer, a shadow of something you can’t quite place flickering behind his eyes. You inhale sharply, steadying yourself, pressing a hand against your temple as a dull ache throbs inside your head.

“I’m very—very—tired,” you continue, voice barely above a breath. “So just… let me rest, Caleb.”

His jaws tightens. He shifts his weight, like he wants to say something—like there’s something sitting heavy on his tongue—but in the end, he exhales through his nose, slow and steady,

His voice, when he finally speaks, is quiet. Strained.

“…Get some rest, then.”

His fingers twitch at his sides. He slowly place his hand on your head, ruffling it softly—the way that has always brought butterflies to your stomach. His violet eyes flicker, scanning you—your unsteady stance, the way you press against your temple, the exhaustion settling deep in your features. Something flashes behind his gaze. But just as quickly, it’s gone.

He takes a step back. Then another.

He tilts his head slightly, studying you one last time—not with amusement, not with his usual lazy charm or playfulness, but with something much quieter. Much heavier.

“Try not to sleep through dinner, shortcake.” His usual grin flickers at the edges, forced, strained, before turning his heel.

Click.

part 4

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mywritersmind · 5 months ago

Text

DO NOT DISTURB - LN4

summary : In which an early morning surprise comes in the form of Max Verstappen staring at his little sister in his rivals jacket.

listen up : swearing! maxverstappenssister!reader

words : 982

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The constant banging on the door woke me up with a groan. I didn’t think before slipping out of bed, rubbing my eyes and slumping my way to the door to see dare bother me so early. I put the do not disturb on last night!

I twisted the handle, running a hand through my hair and peak my head out. Now, you know that feeling when your stomach drops on a rollarcoater? When you’re driving a little too fast and slam your foot on the break because you are not going to make that light? That feeling that you get when you get caught.

I immediately regret it.

I immediately regret it because my brother is staring at me, his mouth open and his eyes wide. I try to slam the door shut because in my groggy haze, I forgot that i’m not in my room.

The feeling of Lando’s jacket on me suddenly takes over as I scream and push my back against the door. Max fights back instantly, not letting it close as I struggle to hold him off.

“What the fuck!?” He bangs on the door, “Y/n!?”

My eyes go to the bed where a lazy figure sits up, clearly confused until Max pushes the door open, my heels dragging on the floor in a last ditch attempt to stop him.

“Shit.” Is all Lando says, practically falling out of bed and standing up. He’s in pajama pants only and normally I would grin stupidly at his naked chest but i’m pretty sure i’m about to be murdered.

“Yeah, Shit!” Max slams the door behind him as I back away quickly, “Someone better start talking!”

See, I didn’t mean to start hooking up with my brother's rival/friend! But Lando Norris had his eyes set on me and even though at the time I thought it was just for bragging rights or a one night stand, he kept coming back.

“Um…” Lando’s voice is still scratchy from sleep as he looks at me, panicked.

“We’re dating!” I say quickly as Lando’s eyes get wide and he takes a step back. Max steps forward, something new that i’ve never seen on his face. He seems to try to find words, opening and closing his mouth a hundred times with hand gestures to match.

He stops, slapping his hand against his mouth, “I told you to stay away you little-” He screams at Lando and I suddenly wonder if he’s woken up the whole floor.

“I tried but your sisters hot, mate…” This gets Lando slammed up against the wall with a bloody grin on his face.

“Lando!” I scream, not because I'm scared for him, but because he’s being a little shit about it.

He’s wanted to tell Max for months and at times, I did too! Most of our friends our suspicious or completely know but Max is my brother. And a very protective one at that.

Hence, my boyfriend slammed against a wall.

“I will fucking destroy you, Norris.”

“Go ahead, Max. But when you do I want you to imagine me coming home to a Verstappen who really likes and pittys me.” Fucking hell he’s a complete cunt and I have to pretend it’s not hot as hell.

“Will you two stop!?” Is all I say when I see Max genuinely raise a fist! He backs away from Lando and starts pacing. I look at my curly haired who has a cheeky grin on his face. “Shut it.” I mumble and come closer to my brother.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” He looks at me and it’s the first time I realize he might be genuinely hurt.

“I knew you’d react like this.” I cross my arms, getting embarrassed that my big brother is disappointed in me.

“No, I reacted like this because I came to my friend's hotel room only to find my baby sister in his clothes!” Okay so maybe I should have told him earlier…

“It’s my fault, I didn’t want to tell.” Lando cuts in.

“No, don’t.” I groan, hating taking responsibility for my own actions, “Lando wanted to tell you. He did, actually! You both may have been piss drunk but still, he really wanted to.”

“Like me more now?” I can hear the smile in Lando’s voice as my brother blinks.

“No.”

“Anyway!” I eye Lando, “We’re dating. And I know I should have told you and you’re probably pissed-”

“Definitely pissed!” Max cuts in.

“But, I really like him.” I'm actually in love with him but I think that would make Max have a heart attack.

“You.” Max points to Lando who’s eyes widen, “You ever hurt her, Please remember that we have the same job, with the same danger, except i’ve been doing this a lot longer than you. I can play anything off as a track accident.”

Lando’s face drops as he looks to me, “Did he just threaten to kill me?” I smile and nod, “You Verstappens…”

“You threaten him before?”

I nod, “All the time.”

“Good.” Max lets out a dry laugh, walking towards the door. “I’m still pissed so don’t get any ideas about PDA around me, ever!” He pointedly says to Lando. “Ugh ew, I hate you both.”

“Love you too, Maxie.” I say with a smile and a sigh of relief.

“Hey, Max.” Lando walks up behind me and I'm already worried. My brother turns, his hand on the door, “While we’re here… we have another surprise.” Lando slips his hands over his jacket, holding my stomach. I slam my foot on his as he laughs and my brother looks at us with murder in his eyes.

I can’t help but laugh, leaning back into Lando as he holds me tighter. “Go back to your room, he’s a dick, I know!”

Then, Max does something I completely didn’t expect. He smiles.

#lando norris is a little shit #fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #lando imagine

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rafayelxsylusho · 5 months ago

Text

How would the lads men react the first time they see you wearing a babydoll.

TW: SMUT SMUT SMUT and more SMUT

Caleb/Xavier/Sylus/Zayne/Rafayel

CALEB 🪐

Caleb's eyes widened as they raked over your form, taking in the sheer black lace of the babydoll that clung to your curves. The dark fabric contrasted starkly with your skin, and the low neckline exposed the tantalizing swell of your breasts. Below, a tiny black thong disappeared between your thighs, drawing the eye down to your long, shapely legs.

For a moment, Caleb felt his breath catch in his throat. Desire, hot and intense, surged through his veins like liquid fire. He drank in the sight of you, his gaze burning a path down your body, lingering on the tempting expanse of skin and the way the flimsy lace hugged your most intimate places.

"Looks like I got home just in time for dinner" he breathed, his voice rougher than intended, "and it looks mouthwatering"

Caleb's heart raced as he closed the remaining distance between you, his eyes locked into yours. The air between you crackling with a tension that set your nerves alight. He could see the pulse fluttering at the base of your throat, could hear the hitch in your breath as he drew closer.

Caleb's fingers trembled slightly as he reached for the delicate straps of your babydoll. The flimsy black lace slid down your shoulders with a whisper of fabric against skin. He felt the weight of the lace cups ease, revealing the soft swells of your breasts to his hungry gaze.

His breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of you, now bared before him in the dim light of the room. The urge to touch, to feel, surged through his veins, setting his heart pounding against his ribs.

He watched your nipples pebble and tighten under his intense gaze. The sight sent a jolt of desire straight to his core, stoking the flames of his arousal. He could feel himself growing hard, his cock straining against the confines of his pants as he drank in every little reaction on your skin.

Kneeling before you, Caleb gripped and slowly slid the babydoll down your body. He took his time, savoring the way the lace skimmed over your curves, revealing more and more of your skin to his greedy eyes. The fabric slipped lower and lower until finally, it fell away completely.

Caleb gripped your hips, his fingers splaying over the dip of your waist. He leaned in, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your stomach, your ribs, the valley between your breasts. He took his time, worshipping every inch of exposed skin with lips, tongue and teeth.

"Turn around for me, sweetheart," he coaxed, his voice a low, approving rumble. "Let me see all of you."

As you spun slowly, Caleb's gaze followed the line of your body, committing every detail to memory. He felt his mouth go dry at the sight of your pert ass, the way it jutted out invitingly. His fingers itched to touch, to squeeze, to feel the soft flesh yield beneath his palms.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice strained with desire. "You're gorgeous" He could feel his cock throbbing, hard and aching in his pants as he drank in the sight of you. The way your body moved, the play of muscle and sinew beneath smooth skin, it was enough to make a grown man weep.

His hands slid around to your front, skimming over the soft skin of your belly, the gentle swell of your breasts. He cupped the weight of them in his palms, feeling the heat of you, the way your nipples pebbled against his touch.

Caleb turned you back around to face him, his eyes dark and intense as they locked onto yours. Without breaking his gaze, he hooked his fingers into the straps of your thong, his knuckles grazing the sensitive skin of your hips. The lace dug into your flesh slightly as he tugged the garment down, inch by torturous inch the lace skimming over your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

Now, you stood completely naked before Caleb, every inch of your skin bared to his ravenous gaze. You could feel the weight of his eyes on you, could sense the desire radiating off him in waves.

"Caleb," you whispered, his name falling from your lips like a plea. A plea for his touch, for his kiss, for everything he could give you.

Caleb hooked your leg over his shoulder, his large hand gripping the back of your thigh. His eyes, dark and intense, remained locked onto your most intimate place, taking in every detail of your glistening folds. The scent of your arousal filled his nostrils, making his head swim with desire.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice a low, reverent rumble. "Look at you, already so wet for me." His thumb brushed teasingly over your slit, feeling the slick heat of you. He could feel you shudder against him, hear the sharp intake of breath that caught in your throat.

Slowly, torturously, he parted your lower lips with his fingers, revealing the pretty pink of your inner walls. His cock throbbed almost painfully at the sight, a bead of pre-cum leaking from the tip as he took in your beauty. He wanted nothing more than to bury his face between your thighs, to taste you, to feel you come undone against his mouth.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive purr. "Tell me how badly you need my mouth on this pretty little pussy." His fingers circled your clit, applying the lightest pressure, not enough to give you the relief you craved.

"Please Caleb," you whimpered, your voice trembling with need. "Please, I need your mouth on me"

Without hesitation, he leaned in, breathing in your intoxicating scent before dragging his tongue through your folds.

"Fuck, you taste divine," he growled against your skin, his voice vibrating through your core. He licked you again, slower this time, savoring the addictive flavor of your arousal.

He focused his attention on your clit, circling the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue before sucking it between his lips. You cried out, your head falling back as jolts of pleasure raced through your body. Caleb groaned against your skin, the vibrations only adding to your rapidly building pleasure.

Two fingers slid inside you, pumping in and out of your soaked channel. They curled to hit that special spot inside you that made stars explode behind your eyelids. You were lost in the sensation, drowning in the feeling of Caleb's mouth and fingers working in tandem to drive you towards oblivion.

"Oh god, Caleb!" You keened, your inner muscles starting to flutter around his invading fingers. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna come!"

"Cum for me, sweetheart," he commanded, his voice a low, seductive growl against your dripping sex. "Let go, baby. I want to feel you come all over my tongue."

He curled his fingers just right, rubbing that special spot inside as he flicked his tongue rapidly over your clit. He could feel your body tightening, your muscles pulling taut as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave.

With a hoarse cry of his name, you came, your inner walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers as your juices gushed out, coating his hand and chin. Caleb groaned in satisfaction, lapping up every drop of your release like a man starved.

Caleb stood up, his lips and chin glistening with your essence. He kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he gathered you close. "You're exquisite," he murmured against your lips. "But I'm still a bit hungry, I'm so glad I got home in time for a delicious meal"

XAVIER 🌟🌟

Xavier's eyes widen as they rake over your exposed curves, lingering on the tantalizing swell of your cleavage peeking out from the lacy yellow fabric. A faint blush rises to his pale cheeks, and he swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He's trying to maintain his composure, but you can see the hunger simmering beneath the surface of his gaze.

"Well now, don't you look...enticing," Xavier murmurs, voice low and rough with barely restrained desire. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes never leaving your body as they drink in every inch of exposed skin and a teasing glimpse of what lies beneath. The air between you feels charged with tension and anticipation.

Do you like it Xavier? you ask, " I bought it just for you"

Xavier's eyes darken with lust at your words, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He rises to his feet in one fluid motion, closing the distance between you in two long strides. His calloused hands come up to rest on your hips, thumbs brushing along the lacy edges of your babydoll. He pulls you flush against him, letting you feel the hard length of his arousal press against your stomach.

"I love it," he growls, ducking his head to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. His lips find your pulse point, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "I love that you're standing here, looking like a fucking wet dream come to life."

One hand drifts lower, cupping the rounded globe of your ass through the thin lace of your panties. He squeezes roughly, fingers digging into the supple flesh. "It's going to look even better on my bedroom floor," he promises darkly, hot breath fanning over your ear.

Xavier hoists you effortlessly over his shoulder, one strong arm wrapped around your thighs. As he spins you around, your babydoll rides up, exposing the skimpy lace panties underneath. The cool air kisses your newly bared skin, pebbling it with goosebumps. Xavier's hand is on your ass, he squeezes and kneads the supple flesh, fingers dipping teasingly beneath the lace to brush against your most intimate area. Your heart pounds wildly, a thrill of anticipation and arousal rushing through you at his bold touch.

"Mmm, I can't wait to peel these cute little panties off and explore what's hiding underneath," Xavier rumbles, voice dripping with lust and promise. He carries you towards the bedroom, each step jostling you against his firm shoulder and muscular back. You squirm in his hold, your core clenching with need. Xavier just chuckles darkly, giving your rear a sharp smack. "Behave, you naughty thing. You're not going anywhere until I've had my fill of you."

Xavier tosses you onto the plush bed, your yellow babydoll riding up to fully expose your lace cheeky panties and the creamy skin of your thighs. You bounce slightly on the mattress, hair fanning out around your head, cheeks flushed and chest heaving with anticipation. Looming over you, Xavier takes a moment to drink in the sight, his eyes hungrily roaming your curves.

"What a pretty little picture you make," he murmurs, crawling onto the bed and hovering above you. His hands come down to either side of your head, fingers brushing through your hair almost tenderly before fisting in the dark strands. He drags his knee between your thighs, applying the slightest pressure, not quite touching your most intimate place but close enough to make you ache for it.

Xavier slowly peels the flimsy fabric of the babydoll up your body, revealing inch after tantalizing inch of smooth, sun-kissed skin. As the hem passes your collarbone, your hardened nipples come into view. A low, approving growl rumbles in Xavier's chest as he takes in the glorious sight of you splayed out beneath him, nearly bare and wanting.

Xavier's head dips lower, and he takes one aching nipple into his hot mouth, swirling his tongue around the stiff peak before suckling greedily. His other hand kneads and massages the soft weight of your breast, rolling and plucking at the nipple he's not attending to. Pleasure sparks through your nerves, making you arch into his touch and gasp out a breathy moan. Xavier just smirks against your skin, the vibrations sending tingles straight to your core. He's just getting started.

Xavier's fingers dip teasingly beneath the lace of your underwear, brushing maddeningly close to your aching, hidden folds. Your hips twitch upwards, chasing his touch, desperate for more. A wicked grin spreads across Xavier's face as he watches your needy reaction, clearly enjoying the control he has over your desire.

"Someone's eager," he taunts softly, fingers still toying with the delicate lace that barely covers your most intimate area. "Don't worry, I'll give you what you want...eventually."

Xavier takes his time, slowly peeling your soaked, lace underwear down your thighs. The drenched fabric clings to your folds before he finally tugs it away, baring your glistening, needy sex to his hungry gaze.

"Look at this, so wet and ready for me," Xavier growls approvingly, tossing your panties aside carelessly. He parts your thighs wider with his knees, settling between them. His calloused fingers trail up and down your slick slit teasingly, not quite touching where you need it most.

Xavier removes your babydoll, tossing it to the floor and leaving you bare and exposed beneath him. He settles between your spread thighs again, the heat of his breath ghosting over your dripping sex. Without warning, he leans in and drags the flat of his tongue along your slit, savoring your essence with a low moan. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he begins to eat you out with deep, long strokes of his tongue, lapping at your folds and delving into your entrance. He takes his time exploring every inch of your pussy, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, but never quite touching it directly.

The teasing is exquisite torture, building your pleasure steadily as he brings you closer to the edge with his skilled mouth and tongue. Soft, filthy sounds of enjoyment rumble in Xavier's chest as he feasts on you, spurring on his enthusiastic devouring of your aching sex. Your fingers tangle in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as you try to pull him closer, silently urging him to give you what you need, all the while, he deftly avoids your throbbing, aching clit, knowing that the slightest touch there would send you careening over the edge into ecstasy.

"Please..." you gasped out, voice ragged with need. "Xavier, please..."

Just as you teetered on the brink of exploding, your body wound tight and ready to shatter, Xavier flipped you over abruptly. He pushed your upper body down against the mattress and lifted your hips up, forcing your knees under you and leaving you presented in a needy, exposed position - hands gripping the sheets, back arched, ass high, and face pressed into the bed.

"Ah, ah, ah...not yet," Xavier tutted, giving your rear a sharp smack that echoed through the room. "You don't get to cum until I say so." His fingers slid through your dripping folds, coating them in your arousal before he brought them to your lips.

"Taste yourself," he commanded, pushing his soaked digits into your mouth. "Taste how much you want it."

As you suck your essence from Xavier's fingers, swirling your tongue around the digits and savoring your own intimate flavor, he takes the opportunity to line himself up with your entrance. With a smooth, powerful thrust of his hips, he sinks into you, stretching you wide around his thick, hard length. A guttural groan tears from his throat at the exquisite feeling of your tight, wet heat enveloping him.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," Xavier grunts, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he hilts himself fully inside you. He stays still for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the sizeable intrusion, before he starts to move. His thrusts are deep and powerful, each one striking that perfect spot inside you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin and your mingled moans and grunts of pleasure fill the room as Xavier takes you hard and fast from behind. His hands come around to your breasts, kneading the soft mounds roughly.

Xavier fists a hand in your hair, gripping it tightly as he yanks your torso up and back. This new angle allows him to drive into you even harder and deeper, his hips slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust. The sudden change in position has him burying himself to the hilt with every stroke, his heavy balls slapping against your clit and sending jolts of intense pleasure through your core.

The combination of the deep, relentless thrusts striking your cervix and the intense stimulation on your clit has your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your inner walls clamp down around him like a vice as you scream your release, gushing around his pistoning length. Xavier just groans in satisfaction, fucking you through your climax

With a final, brutal thrust and a hoarse shout of your name, Xavier buries himself to the hilt inside you. His cock throbs and pulses as he finds his release, hot ropes of his seed painting your fluttering walls. He grinds against your cervix, making sure every last drop takes root deep within your fertile womb.

"Fuck!" Xavier roars, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he holds you in place, pinning you on his still-twitching cock. His head falls back, eyes squeezing shut in bliss as the intense pleasure of his climax crashes through him.

Finally, with a shuddering breath, he slumps forward, blanketing your smaller form with his muscular body. He peppers your shoulder and neck with soft kisses, basking in the afterglow of your passionate lovemaking.

"That was...incredible," Xavier murmurs, nuzzling under your jaw. "I can't get enough of you, I'll never get enough of you." His hands roam your curves, caressing and possessive, as if he's trying to memorize every dip and swell.

"Mine," he whispers, voice rough with sated lust and adoration. "You're mine. Forever and always."

SYLUS 🐦‍⬛

You blush, but that doesn't stop you from trying on clothes. You hold up a red babydoll with black lace trim, sliding it over your curves. The short, silky fabric clings to your breasts, highlighting their shape and fullness. You turn to the side, admiring how the babydoll nips in at your waist before flaring out over your hips and ass. The black lace of the stockings contrasts with the bright red of the lingerie.

Sylus leans against the doorframe, his crimson eyes roaming over your body with undisguised hunger.

"Well, well, well...don't you look good enough to eat," he purrs, voice low and rough with desire. "Red is definitely your color, kitten. It sets off your skin beautifully." His tongue darts out to wet his lips as his eyes stay on the swell of your breasts, barely contained by the flimsy fabric.

He takes a sip of his whiskey, relishing the burn as it slides down his throat. "Beautiful," he murmurs, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. "Absolutely exquisite." His gaze lingers on the swell of your breasts, the way the babydoll clings to your hardening nipples.

You startled at the sound of Sylus' voice, whirling around to face him with wide eyes. The red babydoll fluttered around your thighs as you turned, your cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink at being caught trying on lingerie. "Sylus! You're home early..." You stammer, unconsciously tugging at the hem of the short garment. "I didn't expect you until later tonight."

Your heart races as you take in his tall, imposing figure leaning casually against the doorframe. The dim lighting of the bedroom casts shadows across his chiseled jaw and sharp cheekbones, making him look even more mysteriously handsome and a touch dangerous. You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very exposed and vulnerable in the skimpy lingerie. Yet there's an undeniable thrill that shoots through you at being caught off guard like this.

Sylus's lips curve into a wicked smirk as he pushes off from the doorframe, taking a step into the bedroom. His crimson eyes drink in every detail of your appearance, from the way the red babydoll clings to your curves to the black lace stockings hugging your long legs. He can see the surprise and slight embarrassment flashing across your face, but there's something else there too - a spark of excitement, of anticipation.

"I must say, this is quite welcoming." Sylus sets his glass down on the dresser, never taking his intense gaze off you. He starts to unbutton his suit jacket slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving your face. "I had no idea you were such a fan of...lingerie shopping."

With each button he undoes, Sylus takes another step closer to where you stand frozen by the bed. The air between you feels charged with a sudden, electric tension. Sylus can see the way your breathing has quickened, the rise and fall of your breasts beneath the thin fabric of the babydoll. He knows you are feeling it too - this pull, this undeniable attraction that always seems to crackle to life whenever you are in each other's proximity.

Sylus takes another step closer, now mere inches away from where you stand frozen. He reaches out a large, elegant hand to trail his fingertips along the silky fabric of the babydoll where it drapes over your shoulder. The light touch sends goosebumps erupting across your skin and you have to fight the urge to shiver.

"You look absolutely stunning, kitten," Sylus murmurs, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "The silk is exquisite...but it's nothing compared to the exquisite creature wearing it." His crimson eyes flick up to meet your gaze, a wicked gleam in their depths. "I must say, I'm quite...intrigued by your choice of attire. Were you expecting someone tonight? Planning a little rendezvous perhaps?"

Sylus's tone is playful, almost teasing, but there's an undercurrent of something darker, more possessive beneath the words. His hand slides down the silk, skimming over the swell of your breast, before coming to rest on your hip. He grips your hip possessively, his long fingers sinking into the soft flesh.

"Or perhaps..." Sylus leans in closer, until his lips are a hair's breadth from your ear. His breath is hot against your skin as he whispers, "You dressed up for me, kitten? Hoped to give me a little...welcome home present?"

He nips lightly at your earlobe, sending a jolt of sensation zinging through you. Sylus chuckles darkly at your sharp intake of breath, clearly relishing the effect he's having on you. "Tell me, did you miss me? Did you think of me while you were trying on these...provocative little garments?"

His other hand comes up to tilt your chin, forcing you to meet his heated gaze. Sylus's eyes are dark with desire, his expression one of pure, masculine hunger. "Because I certainly thought of you, kitten. Constantly. I've been...craving you."

You gasps as Sylus's hand boldly reaches down between your legs, his fingers finding the tiny patch of silk covering your most intimate area. You can feel the heat of his touch even through the flimsy fabric, and it makes you ache with a sudden, intense longing. Your body betrays your arousal as Sylus's fingers brush against your clothed slit, the silk dampening with your excitement.

You can feel the hard, muscular length of him pressed against you, the evidence of his own desire impossible to ignore. It makes you feel powerful and wanted, to know that you can affect him this way. At the same time, it's terrifying, because you know the depths of Sylus's hunger and the way he can consume you utterly.

Your back arches slightly, pressing your breasts more firmly against Sylus's chest as his fingers continue their maddening caress between your legs. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, your hips twitching involuntarily towards his touch. "I...I didn't know when you'd be home," you manage to get out, "I just...I wanted to..."

Your tongue darts out to wet your suddenly dry lips, and you look up at Sylus from beneath lowered lashes. "I wanted to look pretty for you," you confess softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I wanted you to...want me."

You let out a soft gasp as Sylus's fingers suddenly fist in you hair, gripping the silky strands and tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. Your pulse leaps beneath his touch, racing wildly as he leans in to rasp hotly against your sensitive skin.

"Kitten, I want you all the damn time," Sylus growls, his voice a low, feral rumble that sends molten heat straight to your core. "With this flimsy scrap of silk or without it, you drive me absolutely mad with desire."

His other hand slides around to grip your ass, squeezing the firm globe and pulling you harder against the thick, rigid length of his cock. You can feel every inch of him, even through the clothing, and it makes you ache with hunger.

Without warning, he spins you around and pushes you down onto the bed, Sylus crawls over you settling himself between your splayed thighs. He looms above you one hand still fisted in your hair, the other deftly unbuttoning his shirt. The crisp fabric parts to reveal the hard planes of his chest, the muscles rippling beneath his skin.

His crimson eyes blaze with hunger as he drinks in the sight of you splayed out beneath him, the red silk of your babydoll riding up to expose the creamy flesh of your thighs. The swell of your breasts rises and falls with each shallow breath, the hardened peaks of your nipples straining against the thin material.

"Fuck, kitten," Sylus rasps, his voice rough with desire, "you have no idea what you do to me. No idea how bad I want to tear off this scrap of silk and bury myself inside your tight little cunt."

Sylus's hand slides from your hair to wrap around your throat, his long fingers curling possessively around the slender column. At the same time, his other hand tugs harshly at the crotch of your panties, the delicate fabric rending with a sharp sound.

"Such a naughty kitten," he murmurs, his voice a low, wicked rumble. "Getting this wet, this desperate...all for me."

He tears the ruined garment away, baring your glistening folds to his heated gaze. Sylus licks his lips, his eyes glinting with anticipation.

"Spread your legs wider, kitten," he commands, his voice leaving no room for disobedience. "Let me see all of you. I want to watch you come apart on my cock."

His hand tightens around your throat as the other slides between your thighs, his fingers delving into your slick heat. He strokes you slowly, maddeningly, his thumb circling your clit in a tortuous rhythm.

You let out a startled gasp as Sylus suddenly yanks the red babydoll up and over your head, tossing it carelessly to the side. The cool air of the bedroom kisses your newly bared skin, making your nipples tighten into stiff peaks. You lie there, naked except for the black lace stockings, feeling vulnerable and exposed...and incredibly aroused.

"I want to fuck you just like this - with nothing but these sinful stockings clinging to your gorgeous legs." His gaze drags slowly down your body, lingering on the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips. "I want to see them wrapped around my waist as I drive into you again and again."

He settles himself between your thighs, the thick ridge of his clothed erection nestling against your slick folds. You can feel the heat of him, the hard, pulsing length that makes you ache to be filled.

Sylus leans down to capture one nipple in his mouth, suckling roughly as his hand kneads the soft flesh of your breast. His other hand slides down to grip your ass, squeezing the firm globe as he rocks his hips against you.

"Fuck, I love seeing you like this," Sylus rasps against your skin, his breath hot and ragged. "Spread out and waiting for my cock, desperate to be filled." He nips at your collarbone, his teeth grazing your racing pulse. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, kitten. I'm going to make you scream until the neighbors know my name."

You watch with bated breath as Sylus's deft fingers make quick work of his belt, the leather strap slipping free with a soft hiss. Your pulse pounds in your ears as he unbuttons his pants, the sound of each button popping open seeming to echo in the charged silence of the bedroom.

As the last button gives way, Sylus pushes his pants down. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him, his thick cock springing free, the swollen head already glistening with arousal.

Sylus smirks at your reaction, his eyes glinting with a wicked, knowing light. "You like what you see, kitten?" he purrs, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "You like seeing what you do to me?"

He wraps a hand around his thick cock, stroking it slowly as he looms above you. The sight of him touching himself makes your core throb with need, a fresh flood of arousal dripping down your thighs.

He notches the swollen head of his cock against your entrance, the heat of him searing your slick folds. Your hips lift, trying to draw him inside, to feel that thick length splitting you open. But Sylus holds back, teasing you with the promise of his cock, denying you the satisfaction of being filled.

You reach down, spreading your legs wider to expose your glistening, swollen pussy to his hungry gaze. The sight of your dripping folds, the way your hips twitch with anticipation, is almost too much for Sylus to bear. With a low, feral growl, he grips your thighs and pushes forward, the thick head of his cock parting your slick flesh and sinking into your tight heat.

"Fuck, kitten," Sylus groans, his eyes squeezing shut at the exquisite sensation of your silken walls gripping him like a vice. "You are so fucking tight....so perfect"

He pushes forward slowly, inch by hard inch, until he's buried to the hilt inside you. You cry out, your back arching off the bed, you can feel every throbbing inch of him, stretching you, completing you in a way you never felt before.

Sylus starts to move, pulling out slowly until just the tip remains inside you, before slamming back in, setting a hard, deep rhythm. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as he fucks you, the force of his thrusts rocking the bed and making the headboard slam against the wall.

"Yes, fuck, just like that," You encourage him breathlessly, meeting each of Sylus's powerful thrusts with the eager lift of your hips.

Sylus grabs your thighs, his strong hands wrapping around them just above your knees. With a powerful flex of his muscles, he pushes your legs down, forcing your knees to your chest.

You throw your head back, a sharp cry escaping your lips as Sylus pounds into you mercilessly. You can feel every ridge and vein of his thick cock dragging along your sensitive walls, stoking the flames of your desire to a fever pitch. Your nails rake down his back, leaving red welts in their wake as you cling to him, anchoring yourself against the relentless assault on your senses.

"Oh God, Sylus!" You wail, your voice breaking with the force of your pleasure. "Don't stop...please don't stop! I'm so close...so fucking close!"

Sylus leans down, capturing one of your bouncing nipples in his mouth. He suckles hard, his teeth grazing the tender bud as he drives into you with renewed fervor. The dual stimulation of his cock pounding her G-spot and his mouth on your breast sends you hurtling towards your peak at breakneck speed.

When Sylus feels your pussy clench and flutter around his cock as you come undone, he wraps your legs tightly around his waist.

"Yes, just like that," Sylus growls in satisfaction, his hips never faltering as he continues to pound into your quivering core. "Milk my cock, kitten. Work those tight little muscles and drain my fucking balls"

Sylus keeps thrusting steadily, watching your face intently as you come down from your intense high. The sight of your flushed cheeks, hazy eyes, and kiss-swollen lips sends a surge of male pride and desire through him. He loves seeing you like this - lost in pleasure, completely at his mercy, wearing nothing but those black stockings that he finds so incredibly erotic.

He reaches down, running a finger along the lacy top of your stocking. The contrast of the delicate fabric against his rough, calloused skin is intensely arousing. Sylus hooks a finger under the lace and tugs lightly, watching it snap back against your soft thigh.

With a few more powerful, deep thrusts, Sylus finally lets go. You feels his cock throb and pulse inside you, growing even harder before he hilts himself fully inside you and starts to come.

"Fuck, kitten, fuck!" Sylus roars, his voice echoing off the walls as he starts to erupt inside you.

Sylus collapses on top of you, his hips still twitching and jerking as the last spurts of his release dribble into you. He captures your lips in a sloppy, passionate kiss. You stay locked together, panting and trembling in the aftermath of your intense coupling.

Sylus grins wickedly down at you, his eyes glinting with mischief and renewed lust. He leans in close, his lips brushing against you ear as he speaks in a low, conspiratorial tone.

"Guess we have to try more of those baby doll outfits on you, kitten," Sylus purrs, his hand sliding up your thigh to squeeze the soft flesh. "See which ones make you look the most fuckable"

ZAYNE🥼

Zayne paused at the doorway, hazel eyes widening slightly as he heard the soft, rhythmic noises emanating from within the bedroom. His gaze flicked downwards, taking in the sight of your silhouette, your body language unmistakable.

He stood there for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before a slow, amused smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Zayne leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms and clearing his throat softly.

"Seems like someone's been having some pleasant dreams without me," Zayne remarked, voice low and teasing as he let his eyes roam appreciatively over you.

Zayne's smirk widened into a more genuine smile as he pushed off from the doorframe, taking a few quiet steps closer to the bed. The moonlight filtering through the window illuminated your body, your white baby doll clinging to your curves in a way that made Zayne's pulse quicken. He could see the outlines of your hardened nipples pressing against the thin see through fabric, and he felt a familiar stirrings in his own body.

"Such a pretty little sight you make," Zayne murmured, voice dripping with approval and a hint of desire. He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to trail his fingers lightly along your thigh, feeling the smooth skin beneath the thin lace. "Though I must say, seeing you like this, all flushed and needy... it's enough to make a man want to throw caution to the wind and take what he wants."

Zayne's hand slid higher, fingertips grazing the hem of the baby doll. He leaned in closer, breath hot against the shell of your ear as he whispered, "Tell me, my heart... what sort of dreams were you having that left you in such a state? Or perhaps..." His lips curved into a wicked grin. "You were hoping your dear husband would come home and help make those dreams a reality?

"I thought you would be home earlier" you said, your face blushed with embarrassment "I wanted to surprise you"

"Is that so?" he murmured, voice low and husky. His hand slid fully under the hem of the baby doll, fingers splaying possessively over the warm, soft skin of your inner thigh. "You wanted to surprise me, hmm? Well, it seems like you've certainly succeeded, my dear."

"I must say, coming home to such a tempting sight... it's the best surprise a man could ask for," he said, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "And I intend to thoroughly appreciate this surprise, and you, all night long."

Zayne's eyes darkened with lust as he gazed intensely at you, his hand still possessively gripping your inner thigh. He leaned in closer, voice lowering to a deep, husky whisper.

"How many times? How many times did you bring yourself to that blissful edge, all while thinking of your loving husband?" Zayne's thumb brushed teasingly over your bottom lip, his gaze never leaving yours. "Tell me, did you touch yourself once? Twice? More?"

His hand slid higher up your thigh, fingertips grazing the damp lace covering your most intimate area. Zayne's breath grew heavier, the bulge in his tailored slacks becoming more evident as his arousal rose.

"I want to know every sordid detail. I want you to confess just how desperately you craved my touch, my presence. How many times did you make yourself cum, imagining it was me buried deep inside you, claiming you so thoroughly?"

"I couldn't, I needed more" You said, face so red you thought it would catch fire.

"Couldn't, hmm?" Zayne murmured, voice a low, approving rumble. "You needed more than your own touch to find true release? Needed your husband's skilled hands and hard cock to fill and satisfy you completely?"

He leaned in closer, breath hot against the shell of your ear as he whispered, "Such a greedy little thing, aren't you?" Zayne's hand slid fully under the damp lace covering your sex. He could feel the scorching heat emanating from your core, the fabric soaked through with your arousal.

A deep, approving growl rumbled from Zayne's chest as he settled himself between your thighs, pushing them further apart to make room for his broad shoulders. He could smell your intoxicating aroma, the musky scent of your desire permeating the thin, drenched lace.

"Fuck, you're absolutely dripping, my love," Zayne groaned, voice muffled against your sex. "Soaked through these pretty little panties, all for me. Such a needy, wanton thing..."

Without warning, he leaned in and dragged the flat of his tongue over your clothed slit, tasting the essence of your arousal through the flimsy barrier. He could feel the way your hips bucked involuntarily, a sharp gasp escaping your lips at the sudden contact.

Zayne smirked against your skin, hands gripping your thighs tightly as he began to eat you out with fervor. He licked and suckled at you through the drenched lace, focusing his attentions on your sensitive clit and entrance. The thin fabric provided a delicious friction, the wetness seeping through as he pleasured you with single-minded intensity.

"Mmm, you taste divine, my heart," Zayne purred, pausing briefly to speak before diving back in. "I could feast on this sweet cunt for hours... knowing I'm the reason it's so fucking wet and ready."

He could sense your growing desperation in the way you fisted your hands in his hair, nails digging into his scalp as you held him firmly against your soaked panties. The fabric, once a delicate white, was now a translucent, dripping mess, clinging to every curve and contour of your folds.

"Cum for me" Zayne commanded against your sex, his voice a low, authoritative growl that vibrated through your core. "I want to feel you explode all over my tongue, want to taste your release flooding these drenched panties."

Zayne's hands slid up to grip your ass, kneading the firm globes as he grounded his face harder against you, tongue lashing over your clothed clit with ruthless precision. He could feel your thighs beginning to quake, your body coiling like a tight spring ready to snap.

As Zayne's teeth grazed your sensitive clit through the drenched lace your body went rigid, back arching off the bed as a sharp, keening cry tore from your throat. The fabric of your panties grew instantly saturated as your release gushed forth, the thin lace no match for the force of your orgasm.

He could feel your essence flooding his mouth, the taste of your arousal exploding over his tongue. Zayne groaned in appreciation, tongue still lashing and suckling at your sensitive flesh even as you rode out the aftershocks of your intense climax.

As you came down from the euphoric high of your intense climax, you blinked away the haze of pleasure, your vision slowly coming back into focus. It was then that you noticed Zayne sitting back on his haunches, hazel eyes dark with lust and desire as he gazed up at you.

With deliberate slowness, Zayne began to unzip his fly, the sound of the zipper lowering seeming to echo in the charged atmosphere of the bedroom. Your heart racing as you watched, tongue darting out to wet your suddenly dry lips.

As his zipper reached the bottom, Zayne's hand dipped inside his boxers to fish out his impressive erection. It sprang free, thick and hard, the swollen head already glistening with beads of pre-cum. The sight of it made your mouth water and your core clench with renewed desire.

Zayne's voice was a low, seductive purr as he spoke, "You look like you want something, pretty girl... and I'm going to give it to you. I'm going to fill you so full, fuck you so deep and hard, you won't be able to walk straight for a week."

Zayne's eyes flashed with a primal hunger as he flipped you over onto your hands and knees, pushing your upper body down to press your cheek against the pillow. Your ass was now presented to him, the drenched panties riding up between your cheeks, the thin fabric cutting into your sensitive flesh.

"Keep your ass up, just like that," Zayne commanded, voice a low, authoritative growl. His large hands gripped your hips tightly, fingers sinking into the soft skin as he positioned himself behind you.

Zayne's hand slid up your spine, fingers splaying across the smooth skin of your back, holding you in place. "I'm going to fuck you now," he said, voice a low, ominous rumble.

Moving your panties to the side and with one brutal thrust, Zayne buried himself to the hilt inside your dripping core. A guttural groan tore from his throat at the exquisite, vise-like tightness that engulfed him. He paused for just a moment, savoring the feeling of your silken walls fluttering around his aching cock before he began to move.

He gripped the delicate straps of the baby doll, the thin fabric stretching taut over your shoulders as he used them for leverage to pull you back onto his pistoning cock. The lacy hem of the garment fluttered with each powerful snap of his hips, the short skirt riding up to expose more of your toned ass and dripping sex.

"Such a pretty little picture you make, bent over and stuffed full of my dick, wearing nothing but this skimpy lingerie," Zayne praised, voice a low, approving rumble.

"Tell me, is this what you were craving when you had your fingers buried in this tight little pussy?" Zayne growled, punctuating his words with a sharp thrust that made you cry out. "Did you imagine it was my thick cock stretching you open like this?"

To spur you on, he brought his palm down hard on the supple flesh of your ass, the sharp slap echoing through the room. At the same time, he pinched your swollen clit roughly between his fingers, rolling the sensitive nub and sending a jolt of pleasure-pain straight to your core.

"Come on, pretty girl. Give it to me," Zayne urged, his own release building rapidly, balls tightening as he felt you start to clench. "I want to feel you".

You let out a sharp, keening cry as your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with the force of it.

With with a groan, Zayne yanked his throbbing cock out of your spasming sex just as his own peak hit.

"Fuck, yes! Take it, baby!" Zayne roared, fisting his dick as thick ropes of hot, sticky seed erupted from the swollen tip. He aimed the pulsing head at the taut fabric of your panties, painting the pristine white lace with streaks of his pearly essence.

Jet after jet of cum splattered across the flimsy material, the sheer amount of it quickly saturating the thin fabric. The creamy liquid seeped through, dripping down onto your ass cheeks and thighs as Zayne marked his territory, claiming you in the most primal way imaginable.

"You look so fucking hot with my cum soaking through these pretty panties."

He slid his fingers through the mess he'd made, scooping up some of the cooling seed and pushing it into your fluttering entrance. "I love you," he said softly, voice filled with deep satisfaction and adoration.

RAFAYEL🐡

Rafayel pauses mid-stroke, paintbrush hovering over the canvas as he senses your presence. His ears twitch slightly and a faint blush colors his cheeks as he catches the scent of the perfume wafting from your direction. He takes a shuddering breath, trying to compose himself before turning to face you.

His gaze drifts over your form, taking in the purple baby doll that clings to your curves. His eyes linger for a moment too long before he forces himself to look away, clearing his throat.

"I'm in the middle of something important here. This painting won't complete itself, you know."

He sets the paintbrush down with a soft clink against the palette and crosses his arms over his chest, subtly trying to hide the growing tightness in his pants. The scent of your perfume is intoxicating, making it hard for Rafayel to concentrate on anything else.

He rises from his stool, paint-splattered jeans hugging his slender frame as he takes a step closer to you. His sharp purple-pink eyes roam appreciatively over your curves, taking in every detail of the purple babydoll that hugs your figure like a second skin. The way the fabric clings to your breasts, hinting at the soft mounds beneath. How it nips in at the waist before flaring out over your hips and thighs. He licks his lips unconsciously, a flicker of hunger in his gaze.

He reaches out and runs a finger along the strap of the baby doll, tracing it from your shoulder down to where it meets the swell of your breast. Rafayel's touch lingers, thumb brushing against the side of your soft mound. His breathing grows a bit heavier as he fights the urge to pull the fabric aside and expose more of your skin to his greedy eyes.

"Do you like it Rafayel?"

He takes another step closer, now standing mere inches from your body, close enough to feel the heat radiating off your skin. His hand reaches out, fingers skimming along the hem of the purple baby doll, teasing the sensitive flesh of your thigh.

"Like it? Cutie, I more than like it... I'm absolutely crazy about it," Rafayel murmurs, his voice a low, husky rasp. His fingers inch higher, slipping beneath the fabric to caress the smooth skin of your inner thigh. Rafayel's breathing grows heavier, pupils dilating as he fights the overwhelming urge to push you up against the wall and have his way with you right then and there.

"I've never seen anything so... mouthwatering in my life," he breathes, leaning in to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. Rafayel inhales deeply, the intoxicating scent of your perfume making his head spin and his cock throb almost painfully against his zipper.

"Fuck, you smell incredible... it's driving me insane," Rafayel groans, nipping at your pulse point. His hands grip your hips possessively, pulling your body flush against his own. He grinds his hips forward, letting you feel the thick ridge of his erection.

"You're testing my restraint, Miss Bodyguard," Rafayel teases breathlessly, even as he struggles against the overwhelming urge to just take what he wants.

Rafayel's fingers slip higher and higher up your thigh, brushing against your bare pussy on the crotchless panties, he suddenly loses all semblance of control. A guttural groan tears from his throat as he realizes the delicious secret hidden beneath the baby doll. His eyes flash with unchecked lust and desperation.

"Oh, you fucking tease..." Rafayel growls, eyes flashing with unbridled desire. In an instant, he loses the last threads of his control. Gripping your thighs tightly, he hoists you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he pins you against the studio wall. The paintbrushes rattle in their holders from the impact.

Panting harshly, Rafayel attacks your neck with open-mouthed kisses and sharp nips, sucking dark marks into your skin as he grinds his aching cock against your exposed, dripping sex.

"Fuck, cutie, you're so wet... is this all for me?" Rafayel rasps, fingers delving between your folds to tease your clit. He circles the sensitive nub mercilessly, feeling it swell and pulse beneath his touch. His other hand grips the back of your neck, tilting your head to the side to bare more of your throat to his greedy mouth.

Rafayel shudders as he feels your fingers brush against his stomach, traveling lower to hook into the waistband of his jeans. The zipper rasps loudly as you slowly drag it down, inch by inch. Rafayel's chest heaves with each labored breath, his heart hammering wildly in anticipation.

As soon as the last of the buttons come undone and the zipper is fully lowered, Rafayel wastes no time shoving his jeans and boxers down his long, slender legs. The clothes pool around his ankles, leaving his throbbing erection spring free. It juts out proudly, the thick shaft flushed a deep, angry red and leaking copious amounts of precum.

He bucks his hips forward, the swollen head of his cock catching on your slick folds and slipping through them teasingly. The contact makes Rafayel hiss through clenched teeth, fingers digging into the soft globes of your ass.

Rafayel's eyes rake over the crotchless panties, taking in how they frame your glistening sex perfectly. A wicked grin spreads across his face as he considers his options, a dark gleam in his eyes. His fingers dance along the edge of the fabric, teasing your sensitive flesh.

"Mmm, as tempting as it is to leave these cute little panties on while I fuck you senseless, I think I'd rather see them ripped to shreds," Rafayel purrs, voice low and husky with desire.

" But I think we will leave them on, for now...."Without warning, he grips the flimsy fabric tightly and tugs your hips forward, lining the swollen head of his cock up with your entrance.

Rafayel growls, eyes locked with yours as he starts to push forward. The thin fabric stretches taut around his thick length as he sinks into your tight, slick heat inch by excruciating inch.

"Fuuuck, you feel incredible..." Rafayel moans, head falling back as he hilts himself fully inside you. The sensation of your walls clenching and fluttering around him is almost too much to bear. He has to take a moment to collect himself before he starts to move.

Slowly, Rafayel begins to withdraw until just the tip remains inside, before slamming back in with a grunt of pure, unadulterated pleasure. He sets a hard, fast pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the studio as he takes you with wild abandon.

The flimsy panties stretch and strain around his pistoning cock, the fabric growing damp and clinging to his skin. Rafayel reaches down and rips away one of the straps, letting it dangle freely as he continues his relentless assault on your pussy.

"Take it, fucking take it!" Rafayel snarls, fingers sinking into the meat of your ass as he yanks your hips forward to meet his thrusts. The thin fabric of the panties bunches and twists around his shaft, the sensation driving him wild with lust.

He leans in and captures your lips in a bruising kiss, all tongue and teeth as he plunders your mouth. Rafayel's other hand reaches up to grope and squeeze the supple flesh of your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers.

Breaking the kiss, Rafayel buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as he loses himself in the intoxicating scent of your arousal. The perfume mingles with the musky aroma of sex, overwhelming his senses and spurring on his increasingly erratic movements.

Rafayel's breath hitches as he reaches up to drag the thin straps of the baby doll down your shoulders. The purple fabric pools around your waist, baring the creamy expanse of your chest to his greedy gaze. Unable to resist, Rafayel leans down and draws one of your stiff peaks into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

"Mmmph..." Rafayel groans around the tender flesh, suckling greedily as he continues to pound into your dripping core. The dual sensations of his hot mouth on your nipple and the relentless pace of his hips driving into you has you seeing stars.

All the while, Rafayel's hips never cease their relentless rhythm, the flimsy remains of your panties rubbing deliciously against his shaft with each roll and grind of his pelvis. The stimulation is almost too much to bear, pushing you both closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Rafayel snarls, voice strained with exertion and desire. Without warning, he spins you around and tosses you onto the plush armchair in the corner of his studio. The sudden movement makes the paintbrushes and palettes on his easel clatter to the floor.

Before you can react, Rafayel is on top of you, wedging himself between your splayed thighs. He hooks your knees over his elbows and pulls your hips forward, impaling you on his thick cock in one swift, brutal thrust.

"Fuck, yes..." Rafayel groans, eyes fluttering shut as your scorching heat engulfs him again. He starts to move, hips rolling and snapping against yours in a relentless rhythm. The new position allows him to drive even deeper, the swollen head of his cock kissing your cervix with each powerful surge.

The sensation of the rough, tattered lace rubbing against his shaft as he fucks into your sopping wet cunt is exquisite, pushing him closer to the brink of climax.

As Rafayel's fingers find your throbbing clit, he rubs the sensitive nub in tight, quick circles. The added stimulation proves too much for you to withstand, and with a sharp cry, your body goes rigid as a powerful orgasm crashes over you.

Rafayel roars, feeling your velvety walls clamp down around him like a vice. The sight of you lost in the throes of ecstasy, your tits bouncing enticingly with each powerful thrust, combined with the obscene sensation of the tattered panties rubbing against his shaft is enough to be Rafayel's undoing. With a last, brutal surge of his hips, he buries himself to the hilt inside your quivering pussy.

Rafayel screams, eyes rolling back in bliss as thick ropes of his seed paint your clenching walls. His cock pulses and throbs, pumping what feels like an endless stream of cum deep into your hungry cunt.

He collapses on top of you, hips still twitching and jerking as the last weak spurts of his climax dribbles out. He peppers sloppy kisses across your neck and collarbone, panting harshly against your sweat-slicked skin.

"Now let's get these pesky clothes out of the way," Rafayel says, he sits up and practically tears the flimsy baby doll off of your body, casting it carelessly to the side. The ruined panties follow shortly after, leaving you bare and exposed to his hungry gaze.

"Let's take this to the bedroom cutie, I'm not done with you yet".

2K notes · View notes

buckysm · 5 months ago

Text

2:15 am (and i miss you)

ᯓ★part one, part two,

ᯓ★ Bucky Barnes x fem ex hydra AVENGER reader

ᯓ★ part one word count 6k+

ᯓ★a/n: junie’s first post— so please show some love— i hope you like!! my inbox is always open to chat! (minor edits on jan 27) (more edits on mar 11)

ᯓ★ summary: In the quiet hours of the night, you and Bucky find solace in an unexpected friendship built on sleepless conversations and cigarettes. Slowly, walls come down, and a bond forms, kept hidden from the team. But when crisis strikes, the Avengers are shocked to discover just how deep that connection runs—and just how far you’d go for each other. (i wrote this bc of a little fantasy of being in a secret situationship with bucky and the team finding out when bucky goes feral after reader goes missing during a mission)

ᯓ★ warnings/ tags/ tropes for the whole series: canon? what canon?, haters to lovers -- except you never hated him and he just resented you-- midnight rendezvous, friends to lovers, Anxiety, angst and fluff and smut, Bucky Needs a Hug, Protective Bucky Barnes Bucky Barnes issues related to past trauma, not so platonic cuddling, slow burn, jealous Bucky Barnes Miscommunication, Mentions of torture off screen (to be added and expanded as i post part two) NOT BETA READ

These are the hands of fate/ You're my Achilles heel/ This is the golden age of something good and right and real

It started with a cigarette.

It started when he had lent you a lighter. He did not smoke, and you didn’t ask why he had one.

For him, it started months before then.

Bucky was barely coping when you joined the team. His days were muddled by an eternal haze of anger and frustration…His life had been stolen from him, along with his memories from before. He did not feel like he deserved redemption. He had done terrible things, had had horrible things done to him.

He found himself disassociating whenever he wasn’t on a mission. He did not feel real; he couldn’t joke around and feel good without betraying his past. Yet, his past was real; it happened. But Bucky couldn’t just move on, couldn’t just exist without the churning in his gut telling him he was dirty, he was dripping in sin, tarnished by the red in his ledger, filthy to the point of no return.

When he was told about you, his body turned taut with trepidation. Two sides of the same coin. You were injected with serum just like him. Made to do things and had things done to you just like him. And he had heard of you. They had called you serpiente, the serpent, the snake. You were deadly and never made a mistake. No one knew any identifying details about you, not even your gender.

And it was his mistake, thinking you were a man. He yearned to be understood; maybe he would find companionship in you.

But then, you were not a man. The first time he beheld you, he had just finished a mission for Fury. Secret and dirty, he felt right at home doing SHIELD’s grunt work.

You were walking down the compound, side to side with Black Widow. He had assumed you were one of her brethren; maybe you had trained with her, a black widow yourself. Tony Stark pranced a few paces before you.

“Soldier, good you’re here! Come meet our newest recruit!”

Your smile was disarmingly bright. Pretty. Bucky felt himself grow cold with fury. It was a smile that came easily to you. And your eyes, frustratingly soft. You seemed at peace with yourself, and he hated that.

He just stared at you in response. Eyes hard. Waiting for you to react to his lack of reciprocity. You didn’t bite his hook. You just slightly pursed your lips and took his glare in stride.

“Nice to meet you. Stark was telling me about you. All good things, so don’t worry. But I had heard about you from before—you know—we do have in common h-”

“We have nothing in common.” He snarled before walking away, fuming. How dare you? How dare you make chit-chat about the thing that haunted his life. Every waking hour, every nightmare, he was haunted by his past. And you wanted to…what? Talk about it over jokes? No. He decided you had nothing in common.

Maybe your body count was higher than his, and he chose to ignore the elephant in the room. The fact that you were a beautiful woman could be a weapon as much as it could be a vulnerability.

He hated you a bit more each time he saw you get along with the rest of the team. How dare you?

He had thought, had been so sure, that the reason he was disliked was because of his past. But that wasn’t it, was it? Because you and the black widow seemed to do just fine. Maybe he was just broken, and perhaps you had been too, but you had fixed yourself just fine. Parallel wounds, yours had healed, while he had festered like a virus. How dare you?

His despise grew with each smile, each laugh, each time you were slapped on the back.

Everything came to a head when he found you on the balcony. He had thought it was his balcony. His.

It wasn’t a balcony, more of a ledge. A floor that had been destroyed during a hulk mishap had not been fixed and did not look like it would be anytime soon.

The wind was strong. You stood at the edge, facing the precipice. You seemed so peaceful.

He stared at your profile, illuminated by the city lights. Your expression was sad. He had never seen it like that. Your lips were tight, eyes fluttered shut. Were you about to jump?

He walked toward you, deliberately moving his limbs so that you heard his footsteps.

You turned unhurriedly, your eyes opening slowly. There was a small moment where Bucky saw you, your unguarded face. He was too involved in his stupor and had not considered the possibility of it all being a facade. But months had passed, and your mask hadn’t slipped until now.

It was only a fraction of a vulnerable moment before you schooled your features. And it angered him for some reason. Seeing you so easily slip into the practiced mask. It made him like the rest, taking you at face value, not digging deeper past your pretty face, sparkling eyes, and gleaming smile. But then he was angry at himself for not looking past and you for pretending.

Before he could stop himself, before he could think, words were coming out of his mouth faster than he processed them.

“Do not do that, don’t do that.”

You sighed, your mask falling to one of disdain. You looked disappointed in Bucky, exasperated. It was a look of derision; he felt scorned, yet it was better than the fake platitudes.

“Do what? Now, what am I doing that deserves your anger?”

“Pretending,” Bucky grunted.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “So what am I supposed to do according to you, huh?” You walked away from the ledge toward him. He towered over you, head lowered to meet your defiant gaze. “Am I supposed to growl, frown, and hate myself for things I can’t control? Well, guess what? I've been there and done that! And, hey—guess again what happened. I hated it. So what if I am faking it? Maybe if I fake it hard enough, it’ll come true.”

“What’ll come true?” Bucky asked beside himself, snarling.

“Wanting to live, not letting them win. Because if I hate myself, then they win.” Your angry gaze wavered, turning sad. You looked away from him towards the city skyline. “I’ll go now, leave you alone to your self-hatred and whatever….” You started making your way to the battered elevator doors.

Bucky sighed, exasperated. “No, stay. I’m sorry.”

You had stopped walking away, your footsteps silent, but some sixth sense told him you had, in fact, paused.

He turned toward you. “I’m sorry.” He echoed.

You nodded, moving towards the ledge and sitting on it.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

“Careful there, doll face.” His voice was gruff. “Don’t want you to fall off.”

You stiffened slightly, taken off guard, not for the first time tonight. The sweet nickname, coupled with his harsh voice, made heat rise to your cheeks. You decided to appear as if you took it in stride. Not wanting him to know just how much his words meant to you. Wanting to hear him call you that forever.

Because as much as you told yourself otherwise, it hurt when he brushed you off. You had looked up to him.

You didn’t have any memories of your past before the experiments or the training, so maybe it was different for him. He had a life that was taken away from him — and you were just now learning to have one.

You heard about him, heard him even. Heard his screams sometimes. Your handlers wanted to teach you what would happen when you didn’t behave.

It was clear he did not remember you. Why would he? He didn't know who you were when you passed each other in the hydra bases; that was part of your deal. No one expected a pretty girl to have a body count as high as yours.

Bucky had killed about 20-something people, important ones. You knew that Natasha had a count of about six hundred and had shared the fact with you. Bucky had been Hydra’s tool and was used only in important missions. While you…were a gun for hire, basically. A knife for hire. You used your charms on men and women alike to disarm them enough. Your kills were always up close and personal. Sometimes, you have to put yourself in compromising positions to do so. Bucky never had to.

You knew that he had to be put under a lot, had to have his brainwashed again and again, and conditioned an inhumane amount of times. His brain rebelled, and he had a life. Somewhere, deep in his subconscious, he had memories or faint encodings of a life outside.

But you were awake all of the time. You did things because there was no other option. You had to survive. You didn’t know otherwise.

You pondered in silence. And when it became too much for you, you fumbled into one of the multiple pockets on your jacket for your cigarettes. You stiffened when you remembered you had left the lighter on your bedside counter. “Damn it.”

“What’s wrong, doll.” His voice was curious, less rough. He was standing somewhere behind you. You could feel the weight of his stare.

You wanted to comment on the pet names but didn’t want him to stop, so you swallowed a snarky remark. “I forgot my lighter.”

He made his way toward you, movements swift as he sat next to you, feet dangling on the edge. You understood him now. You didn’t want him to fall.

He slid his hand onto the pockets of his cargo pants and came out with a lighter.

You smiled at him. His eyes never strayed from yours as he placed the lighter in your hand.

His eyes were beautiful, darker than usual under the low light.

You tore away from his gaze. Placing a cigarette between your lips, you cupped the lighter and flicked it on.

You took a drag of the cigarette, enjoying the burn. Enjoying the strong scent, stronger than other cigarettes. It made your head light.

Banner had made them for you after you expressed sadness about not being able to enjoy any substances.

You heard a sniff. He had noticed it, too.

You waited a second, leaving the smoke in your lungs, before exhaling. “It’s enhanced with something, Banner made it for me.”

He hummed.

“You want one?” You looked at him from the corner of your eyes, not wanting to turn your face entirely.

“Thanks for offering, doll, but I don’t smoke.”

You hummed, taking another drag. “Not even before?” your question was tentative. You wanted to see if he would open up to you.

He hummed softly. “I did, yes, once or twice. But Steve couldn’t handle the secondhand smoke, so I stopped. Little asthmatic punk…”

Silence stretched out as you enjoyed the lightheaded sensation. Your limbs loosened, and you felt free.

“D’ya miss him?” You turned fully toward him.

His eyes never strayed from the skyline as he answered, “I do. It’s different. We’ve both changed a lot. You know how it is, losing the past.”

“I don’t know, not really…” your voice was soft and resigned.

His eyes flashed to yours. You didn’t know what to do with the full weight of his stare. “What do you mean by that doll?” His brows were furrowed.

You sighed, not wanting to get into it. “It’s late…” You took out your AVENGER-sanctioned phone to check the time, 2:15 A.M.

“I’m going to sleep.” You lied. And you couldn’t stop more words from tumbling out of your mouth. Clumsy and rushed. “Same time tomorrow?”

A ghost of a smile pulled slightly at the corner of his lips. “See you doll face. Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams, Jamie.”

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Jamie. Jamie. Jamie. Jamie….

He had been too quick to judge, and now he couldn’t get you out of his thoughts. His sleep was fitful, but he was granted a reprieve from his nightmares. Dreaming instead of the multitudes in your eyes.

It was a slow day in the compound. He had a routine during slow days; he would go to his favorite training room and lose himself. The training room itself didn’t lack anything, but he had marked his territory with his glares at anyone who entered. He had achieved an unspoken ownership of that particular room.

After having you torment his dreams, however, he had to see you in person. He tried to contain himself and started his routine in the training room.

It lasted 42 minutes.

No amount of dagger throws could get him to calm down.

He found you on the tower’s common floor.

You hunched over a table, Banner at your side. Coming down was worth it.

“Well, good morning there, Sarge. It's nice of you to come out of your room and join the land of the living.”

And he immediately regretted it.

“Stark!” Two voices proclaimed in tandem. You and Steve jumped to defend him, Steve’s voice was sharp, and yours was a playful whine.

“What? I’m just saying, he’s acting like a teenager!” Stark’s voice was a defensive grumble. He tinkered with the toaster in the kitchen area.

“Oh, as opposed to you, who behaves so maturely?” The tone of your voice was playful but had a hidden bite to it. Bucky couldn’t help but appreciate it.

You turned to smile at him, and Steve turned to bicker with Tony. Bucky rolled his lips and moved to grab a mug. He poured himself a cup before walking away.

He barely heard Stark’s remark on his parting, mentally berating himself for caring about the hurt look that soured your face when he did not return your smile. He shouldn’t care; caring was dangerous. It made him vulnerable and put him in a position where he could be easily hurt again.

He had to be careful; he did not want to break down the walls he had put up protecting himself and others from himself.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You almost didn’t show up. Hurt but not surprised by his attitude.

You paced the room you had on Natasha’s floor. She was not home, leaving you to pace away your conflicting thoughts.

Your heart had skipped a beat when he showed up. He never showed up; he was a ghostly presence in the compound. Part of the team, but never there for ‘team building exercises’…

It was 2:14 when you rushed to the elevator, a pounding of indecision in your chest. You told yourself it was curiosity. You needed to know more about him, needed to figure him out - maybe then you would be able to understand why he made you want…-

The silent elevator ride left you time to think.

He is hurt, just projecting/ This could end badly/ This could end with a friendship/ He was an asshole/ He just needs a friend/ At the cost of your sanity?/

Two inner voices argued with each other in the back of your mind. You let them.

The elevator stopped, the doors slid open, and there he was. The voices went quiet as soon as your eyes fell on him.

He leaned against a thick construction support post, overlooking the city skyline, his back to you.

“Nice of you to join me, doll.”

DOLL?! Asshole, he dared to call you doll- yet acted coldly toward you in public?! You grunted angrily, mimicking his usual blasé attitude and walking to stand beside him, not looking at him.

As you stared at the beautiful Manhattan skyline, a storm of anger raged inside you.

“Is everything alright, doll?” His voice was softer, and you weren’t as angry anymore.

Yes, he hadn’t smiled at you, but what exactly made you expect that from him? Yes, he called you doll, but he was from the forties. Plus, he hadn’t smiled at you before. And-what? You had one conversation, and suddenly, you expected him to smile at you? You were delusional! This man was set in his ways and maybe bored, but it meant nothing. He was bored and lonely, and you were overthinking everything. You were new at this, at socialization. Genuine socializing. You socialized a lot for your HYDRA days, but this was new. You were used to having the upper hand and being in control.

You sighed out your exasperation, letting your tense shoulders loosen.

“Mhm…” your eyes never strayed from the city.

You stood in comfortable silence. You were an expert at working yourself into a stupor. But honestly, you were about… twenty twenty-one (you lost time during HYDRA). Yet you felt emotionally stunted- of course, you did. You never had the chance to actually develop skills people your age did.

“This feels like a dream. Like I am hallucinating being free, and I will wake up from passing out due to torture and be back in my cell…” Words tumbled out of your mouth. You were also bored and lonely. Faking your way with the others made you exhausted.

He made no response, but you could tell he understood. And that was enough. You fumbled for your cigarettes. He slid a lighter from his pocket, handing it to you wordlessly.

You took it from his hand, inhaling to light your smoke.

“You know? It’s dumb… but I sometimes feel like screaming at them… like something deep inside me yearns to scream, kick, and throw whatever is around- to get out all my pent-up energy; maybe then I can pass out from exhaustion and sleep. And yea- the novelty of being free, and being in the fucking Avengers is slowly wearing off, and I just-” you sighed, you were talking, and maybe he wasn’t even interested in hearing you whine. “And whatever, I should be grateful… it’s dumb…” You stopped yourself. Letting the chilly New York air into your lungs.

“No, doll, it’s not dumb.” He turned to look at you, forcing you to face the full weight of his gaze. He was devastatingly beautiful. Your inhale was sharp. “Don’t feel bad about being angry. It’s valid to feel this way.”

You smiled then, “Look at you, giving emotional advice. Who knew you were a big softy underneath that grouchy, grumbling exterior.”

He scoffed, but you could tell there was no real meaning behind it. Your smile grew.

His eyes lowered to your lips for a charged moment before looking back to the city. “Those who can’t do, teach-” His lips tugged slightly upwards, a glimpse of a smile.

You took a drag of your cigarette, staring unashamedly at his profile. “What do you do when you are not brooding? Like, what does one do for fun around here?”

“At two am in the morning, doll, those who aren’t sleeping…” he trailed off, a soft pink brightening his cheeks.

“Are what?” your grin was teasing.

“Are you on a mission or something?” His voice came out slightly strangled.

“Or something…” you murmured, a yawn escaping you.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

“So, you really liked big band music? Kind of… classy for a guy who threw himself off buildings.”

“Hey, a man can appreciate good music and bad decisions.”

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

“Stark’s fine, sometimes… but his ego’s bigger than his bank account.”

“If I had his money, I’d buy a planet and avoid people altogether.” You sighed,

“Doll, you’d get bored in two days.”

“True. I’d need at least one grump to frown at me.”

He couldn’t hide his soft grin.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

“Paris. You think it’s as romantic as everyone says?”

“Probably less if I was there...”

“You’re right. You’d make it a lot more broody.”

“And you’d make it a lot more… sneaky. You’d blend into the shadows and pickpocket tourists.”

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

“I could live off this forever.” You spoke around a mouthful of pizza

Bucky grimaced. “Takeout pizza? You call that food?”

“Says the man who probably ate spam for dinner in the ’40s.”

“Now, doll, it was a delicacy back then.”

“Spam’s not a delicacy in any era, Barnes.”

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

“You ever thought about getting a pet? Like a dog or something?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Me, with a dog? Not sure I’d be a good influence.”

“Nah, they’d see through you.”

“I’m more of a cat person.”

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

“I like the quiet moments just before dawn. No one’s around to bother you.”

“Night’s better. Everyone’s already asleep. Feels like you’re the only one left.”

“Until you realize someone like me is lurking in the dark.”

“Yeah, lucky me.”

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

“So, any weird phobias? Mine’s spiders. Too many legs.”

Bucky shrugged. “Needles. After Hydra? No thanks.”

You nodded. “Yeah, makes sense. But hey, at least you could crush a spider for me. And I can catch all your bulk when you pass out at the sight of a needle.”

“Ha, ha.”

Someday, you’d get a real laugh out of him.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

“If you weren’t a super soldier, what would you do?”

“Maybe a mechanic. Fixing cars, quiet life. You?”

“Bartender. People tell you their secrets. It’s like espionage, but with cocktails.”

“Sounds dangerous, doll. What’s in the drink?”

You grinned. “Depends on who’s asking.”

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

“I keep getting these flashes… Steve dragged me to Coney Island, insisting I’d love it. Turns out, I hate roller coasters.”

You rolled your lips, deciding on what to say. “I don’t have any memories of before Hydra, but I dream about falling. Maybe I would love roller coasters.”

“I’ll take your word for it, doll. I prefer solid ground now.”

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

“You ever feel like the idea of ‘freedom’ is just another way to trap us? Like, what do we even do with it?”

“I dunno. Still figuring that out. But it beats following orders like a puppet.”

“Yeah. I just wish freedom came with an instruction manual.”

“If it did, doll, I’d probably ignore it. I don’t need another piece of paper dictating my life..”

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You were late, and Bucky was ready to leave when he heard the elevator doors open. You held a full white plastic bag.

“Honey, I’m home, and I brought dinner!” you had a slight spring in your step; he turned toward you, and a smile of pleasure and relief made its way into his expression without his consent. Your steps faltered slightly, your brows furrowing for a moment before a beaming smile took over, your eyes twinkling. It was real, not a sarcastic grin, a smile! Your response only made his smile more pronounced -slightly, but still-.

“It’s good that you don’t smile; if you did, people would pass out on the spot.”

He couldn’t stop the small laugh coming out of his mouth. “Not you?”

“Not me, I’m made of stronger stuff.” You sat beside him, a bit farther from the ledge than usual.

He followed suit, crouching in front of you. He noted the way you eyed his legs, your inhale, and the way you had to force yourself to look away.

“I wonder what would make you pass out.” His mouth ran away from his brain.

“Maybe take me to a fancy restaurant, and then you can try to find out.”

The thought made his heart race, and he stopped thinking about it. You were joking, it was friendly— you weren’t serious.

“I could, we could go on a few dates, and you would end it when you realize I’m too old and bitter for you, doll. Maybe it’s best we stay here at 2:15 A.M., where I can lend you a light.”

Your face soured to a pout. “Well I like my men a little bit older. But if you are telling me I’m not your type, and you like old ladies, well then I can handle rejection, not the worst thing I’ve lived through.” Your smile was sarcastic, yet he could tell there was hurt behind your eyes.

“No, doll, I don’t think anyone could reject you even if they tried.”

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Your heart raced at his words, caught off guard by their raw sincerity. You weren’t used to hearing compliments, not ones that felt real. A flippant remark was on the tip of your tongue, ready to deflect the tension, but it got stuck.

“You ever think about it? You know… dating?”

He snorted softly, “Who would date me? I’ve got more shit to deal with than anyone would want to deal with.”

You grinned. “Hey, at least you’re mysterious. I’m more… ‘potential assassin.’”

“Ah, the classic ‘will she kill me on the first date’ dilemma. I can hide the metal arm, but you can’t hide the serial killer smile.”

You laughed loudly, shoving him playfully.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

It was a few weeks after the initial meeting, and meeting had become a habit, a tradition of sorts.

You gave him a shy smile when others were present, and he reciprocated with a soft look in his eyes.

He knew he was being obvious with his staring, but he couldn’t help himself from looking at you.

He leaned on the counter, eyes flicking to and from you. He beheld as you smiled and laughed with the rest. He was jealous that you weren’t bestowing a smile upon him, but he held none of the contempt from before.

He sensed an annoying presence beside him.

“Hey, creep, why don’t you join us for drinks tonight? As luck would have it, even your star-spangled ass is joining us.”

Said star-spangled ass turned to glare at Tony, his expression turning into a smile as his eyes shifted toward Bucky.

“Yeah, come with us, you’ll have fun, we promise.”

A myriad of yeahs chorused from the rest of the team, including you. Heat rushed to his cheeks as he looked at the ceiling. “Whatever.” He muttered.

“Well, that wasn’t a no!” you grinned, acknowledging him.” Your smile was so bright he couldn’t take it.

He sighed and grumbled incoherently before turning to hide his blush and walking away.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You smiled to yourself as he retreaded.

Natasha bumped your shoulders together. “He stares at you so much, I have no clue if he hates you or wants you. Maybe both!”

“Nat, don’t be rude; it’s probably because I’m new.”

She smirked, “Sure.” You hadn’t been new for a while.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

He was anxious. It took him forty minutes to place where the tight feeling in his chest was coming from. But it came down to you. It always came down to you as of late.

Steve had an arm around his shoulders and was babbling on about how much fun these rare night outs were, where everyone was present.

He didn’t know what he expected, but you weren’t talking to some guy. Enthusiastic hand gestures and a dazzling smile on your face as some random guy looked at you with an entranced smile.

He felt bile rising in his throat.

He wanted to turn around and walk away, but that would have been too obvious. So he walked in with his stomach dropping with anguish.

He was out of it, sipping a drink that Steve had handed him. His taste buds not even processing the taste of his drink.

“Yo! Joe Goldberg, knock it out with the serial killer stare.”

He felt a smack on his shoulder. He reluctantly tore his eyes away from you.

“What are you talking about?” he grumbled. Smooth. Real smooth.

Even though she was shorter than him, Natasha towered over Bucky. “I don’t know your problem, but you have to check it. It’s getting really weird.”

He felt a hand fist in his heart, tight. He downed the drink and sighed. Think Bucky. Think. “It’s not like that.” He was quiet for a few moments, formulating a response.

“Well, then explain why you keep staring at her like you want to strangle her.”

“I don’t want to— fuck.” He placed the empty glass on the table. “She’s also from Hydra.” He stated.

“Yeah, duh.” Natasha looked at him with contempt.

He needed to fix the fact that she thought he was some sort of obsessed weirdo…. He wasn’t!

“She’s so normal, happy. And she…” he trailed off.

Natasha’s expression shifted to one of understanding. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” He looked to Steve, who tried to make it seem like he wasn’t listening to the conversation.

“Bucky, you’re-” Natasha placed a friendly hand on his shoulder.

“I’m going to get another drink.”

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You could tell something was wrong when you stepped out of the elevator. He was quiet, not the usual kind, brooding. You acted like you always did, but you could tell his heart wasn’t in it.

“Bucky, is everything alright?” your voice was soft.

His reply was an irritated huff. You waited for a few moments, letting him have his space.

The night was cold, and you had worn thick cotton clothing. He wore a hoodie and pants; they looked comfortable, but the man in them did not.

You hummed and moved closer toward him. He leaned on a pillar,

“Big mission tomorrow, huh?” You shifted tactics. It wasn’t odd for him to have a quiet night, where you just sat in companionable silence. This was different, though… he was angry about something. Some insecure part of you told you he was mad at you. But there wasn’t any foundation to that, was there?

He grunted in response. He was making you anxious. You sighed loudly, deciding to smoke or go to bed. The stilted silence made you anxious, a pressure hard on your chest. You tried to exhale it out, but it wouldn’t budge.

You let him wallow next to you for a few minutes before giving up and turning to face him. You placed a soft hand on his forearm, about to say goodnight. He flinched harshly, and your heart twisted. He grimaced, eyes shifting to you before flitting away.

“Bucky, if you need, I-” Your voice had a nervous tinge, and you hated it. You were glad when he interrupted you.

“Go to sleep, doll.” His voice was sad, his face resigned.

You furrowed your brows, studying his expression. You had the urge to kiss him on the cheek for good luck but knew that you would break if he flinched away.

“Goodnight Jamie…”

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You walked away, turning your head twice to smile at him sadly. He held your gaze as the elevator doors closed, removing you from his field of vision. Taking you away from him.

“Fuck.” His voice was soft and defeated. He looked at the city skyline. His eyes glossed over. He wanted to get the self-hatred out, to hit the wall, break his knuckles, and kick at the litter on the floor. But he let it sit, let it fester in his chest. A leech that grew bigger as it fed on the churning, loathsome thoughts overwhelming his brain.

He crumpled with the ease of a paper, falling to the ground.

His limbs splayed as he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t take it. Any of it. He always told himself he was strong. He was The Winter Soldier, for fuck’s sake! And here he was, crying over a girl. But that wasn’t it. Or it wasn’t just that. It was the fact that he was too soft for all of it. And he was still somewhat human at the end of the day. He still had emotions, and he was starved for comfort. He lacked connection. And he was okay without it. Having gone so long without it, he had grown used to the lack. But then you had come into his sanctuary and ruined everything, and he let you. He felt a kinship with you. You had gone through hell and back, had walked the same road as him, and you smiled so big, your eyes twinkled so bright. He couldn’t help but fall into your orbit. Admiring you from afar.

Maybe it was better when he hated you; it was something he was used to and comfortable. He did not know what to do with all these feelings; he hadn’t felt them before, not even in the 40s. He was happy then; it was normal for him to smile. He didn’t know how to appreciate it. Yes, there was war, but there was hope, and Captain America was there to save him, but then Steve wasn’t there anymore. And any sliver of hope was quickly crushed under gleaming leather Hydra boots. He would die someday on a Hydra mission; he had made peace with that. But Steve did save him, a little too late. He wasn’t Bucky anymore and did not feel like he had any right to the mantle of Captain America’s best friend. Some parts of him still wanted that, but all of him yearned to be your Jamie.

And now bitter and traumatized, he held a flower in his calloused hands, and he didn’t know if he was worthy of it. He couldn’t breathe.

He was going to die here, and he couldn’t go in peace because he wanted to see you one more time. He couldn’t stand up, he couldn’t move; he keened in pain like a puppy.

Pathetic, get up. Voices from Hydra spewed venom, wracking through his psyche. He clenched his jaw and groaned from deep in his throat.

Broken…unworthy…killer…tainted…

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The mission was successful. The team had divided in two, his group had finished earlier.

He felt better, exhausted. It had been a long mission. He was covered in grime and blood.

It was rare for him to get to the point of exhaustion, but he had dived head-first into hand-to-hand combat, not letting up, ignoring the black widow’s knowing looks.

Freshly showered and changed into sweats, Bucky let himself fall face-first into his too-soft bed. Days of restless sleep and today’s exertion weighed his body down and pulled his mind into sweet oblivion.

He awoke with a start, looked at the clock, and sat up. 3:22 A.M.

He had stood you up. He rushed to the elevator and up to the floor. His thoughts raced with self-criticism and hatred. He breathed out a frustrated sigh, you weren’t there.

Of course, you weren’t there – he had been over an hour late.

He grumbled to himself all the way down to the common floor. His footsteps skidded to a stop when he found all the lights on and a flurry of activity.

Hawkeye typed furiously into a computer; Black Widow paced the floor, her hands fiddling with tech stuff. Steve was curled over a tablet, his hands clenched around the edge of a countertop.

Bucky stopped. The other team hadn’t come back.

“What’s wrong… where is she?” His chest felt tight.

Steve motioned at him to come near while the other two ignored him.

“Look, Bucky, I know you have some fondness for her, but I need you to calm down. She’s — uh— she’s missing…”

His ears started ringing; he didn’t hear anything after that. He took deep breaths, running his hands through his hair. It was longer, and he needed a haircut. Maybe you could cut his hair. Yeah, that sounded nice.

He stilled. Breathing in deep, “Give me the details. I’ll have her back with me within the hour.”

He didn’t recognize his voice. Black Widow and Hawkeye had turned to stare at him with wide eyes.

“Bucky, calm down, she’s alive from what we can tell, we can’t deal with y- we have to focus on finding her right now.”

“I am focused. I will find her.” His voice was gruff, and the language wasn’t English. He was reverting back…

Iron Man decided it was the best moment to walk in.

Bucky, The Winter Soldier, turned around with intent. He had some inkling of what he must have looked like, a menace— because Iron Man was opening his mouth to make some snarky remark, his jaw clenching shut, hands rising in surrender.

“Где она, где моя кукла?” Where is she? Where is my doll?.

His voice had a deadly cadence. He spoke and meant death.

“She’s okay, Wanda has her.” Black Widow had placed the radio on a table. She walked toward The Soldier slowly.

Wanda, the deadly witch, saved from Sokovia. He remembered her. She was strong. Not strong enough.

He leveled his eyes on her. “скажи мне где, или ты умрешь.” Tell me where, or die.

Her eyes grew hard. “Calm down, soldier. There is no need to threaten anyone.”

The tension was palpable then, rising… rising-

The Doors opened to you limping… being supported by the witch and the doctor.

His shoulders slumped. He shifted toward you, but something blocked his path. He looked down to see Steve’s arm pushing against his chest. The enemy’s stance was on the offense, about to attack, to keep her from him. He was about to threaten his best friend, The Captain, to move when-

“Jamie…”

His gaze flashed toward you. You pushed away from them, limping— stumbling toward him.

He met no resistance this time as he rushed softly toward you.

Your knees buckled as he wrapped his arms around you. You collapsed against him.

You sobbed softly- and he broke. His arms were strong and soft as he held you close.

He didn’t care about anything. He didn’t care how the scene looked. He didn’t care that they all knew for certain now. He loved you.

He just needed to know you were okay.

He held you as you shook, “I thought, I was back there Jamie, I- thought I wasn’t going to to see you again. I thought he would get lonely, and- and- I was going to miss you- they- they- I didn’t care about any of it. I just thought about you….” You sobbed, trying to get words out. “I got out. I killed them all, I couldn’t face it, couldn’t face not- I killed…” For you.

“Kukla…” Doll. “you’re here, you’re okay, let’s get you to the infirmary. You are hurt and bleeding…”

His voice was so, so soft —dense with remnants of Russian. His arms holding you together.

He ignored it all, ignored the dropped jaws and furrowed brows. You came first. He had shown you his vulnerability, but he first had to be sure his Achilles heel would be okay.

Please remember to leave your kind thoughts in the comments, and if you enjoyed support with reblogs, ok thanks for reading be back with part two soon!!!!

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youleftmenochoicebut · 5 months ago

Text

NATIONAL ANTHEM.

pairing. — husband!hwang in-ho x wife!reader

summary. — you always cherish the times your husband is home, and not away dozens of miles away from you, overseeing deadly games.

warnings. — smut (eating pussy), fluff, prolly ooc, its bad.

a/n. — yes, i too, caught the squid game brainrot. i try to work on the requests! schools been kicking my ass tho, sorry. this is too short and def not proofread!

you love when he wakes you up like this. his hand wrapping around your waist to pull you into him, lips crashing into yours the second your eyes open and he knows you’re awake.

he hasn’t been sleeping for almost an hour, watching your chest raise and fall with a steady rhythm of your breathing, the expression on your face changing in your sweets dreams.

and so, when you roll onto him, you hook your arms around his neck, pulling away quickly. “morning breath. ew.” you whisper, a sleepy smile forming on your face as you look down at him. he’s always so composed, even around you, and still it’s the softer side of him, the one only you see (and the one his family once saw).

he knows how much you hate the smell, and he nods, getting out of bed with you in his arms without a problem, and the way he’s still so fit in his mid fourties always makes you sigh. you, only in your twenties, could barely go a day without complaining of back pain or leg pain, or generally any pain.

he carries you to the bathroom, letting you drop onto your feet when you’re in front of the sink, and you stare at your reflection in the mirror. the both of you brush your teeth, and then he’s pulling you out to the kitchen. you sit down on the stool while he makes you a coffee first, handing it to you with a low hum before moving to make a cup for himself.

“any work today?” you mutter after you take a sip of your nectar of gods, a content sigh escaping your lips, your eyes set on In-ho. he shakes his head, leaning his hip against the counter, holding his mug.

“only making my wife the happiest person on earth.” cheeky bastard. for a man who tends to be closed off even with you, you have to admit he’s smooth. it makes you smile, how only the corners of his lips raise, and you set your coffee down in front of you.

“where the hell did you learn to be so charming, huh? damn sweet-talker.” you huff, rolling your eyes playfully as he approaches you, settling his coffee next to yours. he puts his hands against the counter, on either sides of your body, trapping you in a close embrace.

“i’m a natural charmer, darling.” his smile widens, and it actually looks like a proper smile now, as he leans in. before you can react, his hands are on your waist, swiftly picking you up for you to be perched up on the edge of the kitchen island, and you rest back on your elbows.

coming back to your thought from earlier, you’re always amazed at how much stamina your man has.

“you know, i don’t think that’s gonna count as a proper meal.” you chuckle, looking down at him as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, sliding them down your legs and you kick them off once they’re at your ankles. he prompts your legs open with a single pat to your thigh and you oblige right away, spreading them just for your husband.

“still, it’s my favorite.” In-ho mutters quietly, taking a deep breath in when he brings his head to your bare pussy, as if the scent is what he’d want to breathe for the rest of his life.

“don’t tease.” you chuckle, and you feel his nose nudge your clit, a shiver running down your spine. you tangle your fingers into his hair, trying to tug him closer, but he lets out a tshk sound. his hands force your legs over his shoulders, and after a moment of silent contentment, he puts his lips on you.

it makes you arch your back the second he does, even if it’s just a kiss over your pussy lips. he backs away slightly, planting more and more soft kisses over the insides of your thighs, his fingers now grazing on your hips in soothing circles.

“shh… shh. you gotta be a good girl for me, remember?” his voice is a murmur against your skin, and soon his lips go back to your cunt. you only nod, your eyes meeting once he starts sucking on your clit. it’s light, the sensation barely there, and you pull at his hair again. a chuckle leaves him, the vibration against your sensitive bud making your pussy clench around nothing. it truly feels degrading, knowing how much power he holds over your body that a feeling like that brings out a reaction like this.

once he finally stops teasing you and really begins to lap at your intimate part, you moan, the sound low and breathy. you know it won’t be nice now. he spits onto his palm, then his finger pushes inside you soon enough. that one finger stretches you out good, almost painfully, from how thick and calloused it is. he has your body and its’ reactions memorized by now, and so he adds a second finger when the first one is soaked in your juices.

“i love that look on you.” In-ho’s fingers speed up the pace, sliding in and out of you faster, crossing over inside you and curling to hit that spongy spot that makes you tremble. you only glance down at him, watching him through half-lidded eyes, moans and whimpers escaping your mouth more regularly. the man works wonders on you, lips focused on your clit, fingers ruthlessly driving into you with a fastened rhythm. it’s not long until you’re seeing stars, your fingers in his hair drawing him in against your cunt even more to stop him from pulling back, and your climax hits you hard. you’re a panting, dazed out mess as your husband helps you ride out your orgasm, only pulling away when the shaking of your legs subsides, licking his fingers clean of your essence. you let out a heavy sigh as you sit up, unable to form a coherent thought.

“i’m not done with you yet.” your man wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close to his chest, rubbing your lower back gently. “we have a new armchair i think needs a proper… trying out.”

#dividers by pommecita #hwang in ho x reader #hwang in ho x you #hwang in-ho x reader #in ho x reader #squid game x reader #squid game x you #squid game #hwang in ho smut #smut #blurb #frontman x reader #the frontman

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dpspcehntr · 7 months ago

Note

Okay you can write this however you want ( if ur comfortable with it) but I'd really like to see the Lads reacting if they came out of the shower and fem mc was there in their room and she removes the robe to see because she is curious what's underneath 🤭🤭

OOOO! I haven’t thought about this but I love the intimacy of this! I'm going to write this from the idea of this being early in your relationship with him.

My ask box is open! Send me your NSFW head cannons/thoughts/confessions about the LADS main 4! I might even write some of them up!

Warning: suggestive content

Xavier

He sees you sitting on his bed in his hoodie and your pajama shorts playing a game on your phone. The look of concentration on your face lets him know you haven’t noticed his presence just yet.

"What are you playing? Can I join?"

You flinch and look over to him standing in the doorway of the bathroom. This was not your first time staying over his place but it was the first time you've ever seen him in his robe. Your words are lost in your throat as he walks over to you, phone discarded on the bed next to you. Without thinking you reach out to pull the string of his robe. You expected to see his usual black boxers but was greeted by his naked form. Your throat goes dry as you shut it in hast. Your face is flush and you look away.

"S-sorry. I didn't know."

He lightly grips your chin and turns you to look at him again. His skin is covered in a light blush as he leans in for a kiss.

"I figured it would be easier if I didn't have on any clothes. But now I feel under dressed."

You reach for the hem of his hoodie and lift it off with a quickness as he climbs into the bed on top of you.

Zayne

You were packing up the belongings you brought with you for the weekend at his place when he enters the room in nothing but his robe loosely tied around his waist. He walks over to you by the dresser and slides his arms around you.

"I wish you'd stay just a little bit longer."

He plants a kiss on your shoulder and lays his head in the crook of your neck. You stay like this for a minute, just enjoying the feeling of being in his arms.

"I can spare just a little while longer. I'm dying to unwrap this gift you've gotten me."

You turn around and face him. You lock your eyes with his as you pull the ties on his robe. You give him an up and down look and hum in satisfaction.

"It's perfect."

He blushes and lifts you up to sit on the dresser.

"That's just a part of this gift, I still have more to give."

He kisses you as you scoot to the edge of the dresser and hook your legs around him.

Rafayel

Rafayel quickly enters his bedroom as you lay out on his bed. His robe is tied tight around his waist as he makes his way over to you. His nervous yet excited energy is palpable in the room as he steps between your spread legs.

"Don't be shy, let me see."

Slotted between your thighs you carefully pull at the string of his robe. His face bright red avoiding making eye contact with you as all of him is exposed. This is the first time you've gotten a moment to really look at all of him. He was beautiful, lean but powerful. Water droplets roll down his smooth skin like crystals. His breath gets more and more shallow, waiting for you to make a move.

"This is so embarrassing."

You press your hand right below his naval. Your hand warm on his cool skin as he lets out a hiss. His eyes screwed shut as you run your hands over his body. Everywhere but where he needed you, his need more visible as time passes.

"Patience my love, I'll give you what you want soon."

You sooth him as you grip the opening of his robe and pull him down over you as you lay down.

Sylus

You sit on Sylus' bed, reading something from his vast library in his mansion. He had slipped out the room some time ago to take his nightly shower. Before long you're sucked into this book, unaware of the footsteps making their way toward you.

"I'm quite fond of that title as well, though the ending is a tad disappointing. I'll have to introduce you to her other works."

You quickly reach for your bookmark, a piece of paper with a doodle of Sylus from Luke, and slam the book shut.

"You scared me-"

Your words trail off as you take him him. Hair dripping, chest exposed, and a robe tied dangerously low. You clear your throat and sit up. Still at a loss for words he closes the distance between you and gestures to the strings on his robe.

"Go ahead. I've got nothing to hide, sweetie."

You carefully grab one of the ties of his robe and watched as his whole form is exposed to you. A soft wow escapes your lips as you look him up and down. He grabs one of your hands and presses it to his chest, your hand warm on his cool body. A smug smirk sits on his lips and leans down to your ear.

"It's all yours kitten, use responsibly."

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heeluvv · 4 months ago

Text

DREAM.ᐟ

pairing ᝰ.ᐟ idol! park sunghoon x 8th member reader

warnings ᝰ.ᐟ p in v, unprotected sex, dry humping, sub hoon, somnophilia (?), etc.

natty’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

sunghoon couldn't take it anymore. the dream he just had—hot, vivid, and so undeniably real—left him breathless, his body still reeling from the lingering sensations. the way your body felt beneath him in that dream, the way your lips parted as you moaned his name—it was too much. he woke up hard, painfully so, his cock straining against the fabric of his sweatpants, aching for any kind of relief.

he swallowed thickly, his body running on impulse as he quietly pushed his sheets aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. the dorm was silent, the only sound being the faint hum of the air conditioning. he knew this was wrong, knew he shouldn't, but the need gnawed at him, overpowering any rational thought.

each step he took down the dimly lit hallway felt heavier, his pulse hammering in his ears. he reached your door, hesitating only for a second before carefully pushing it open, making sure not to make a sound. and there you were—laying on your bed, completely unaware of the effect you had on him.

your body was sprawled across the mattress, rising and falling with soft, steady breaths. the thin straps of your bra barely clung to your shoulders, the fabric hugging the curves of your chest in a way that made his throat go dry. those skimpy little shorts did nothing to hide the smooth skin of your thighs, and he caught himself staring, his fingers twitching at his sides.

anyone would say it was an inappropriate choice of clothing, especially considering you were the only woman in an all-boy band, but you didn’t seem to care. you never did. and fuck, that only made you even more irresistible to him.

his breath hitched as his eyes raked over your figure, his body reacting instantly. his cock throbbed against the confines of his sweatpants, straining as if it had a mind of its own. he bit his lip, exhaling shakily as his self-control started to slip through his fingers.

god, how was he supposed to hold himself back when you were right there, looking like a goddamn dream?

he moved towards the bed with slow, measured steps, his heart hammering in his chest as the dim glow of the moonlight cast a soft sheen over your sleeping form. his hands trembled slightly as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing them down his legs until they pooled silently at his feet. now, only his boxers remained, the thin fabric barely doing anything to conceal just how painfully hard he was.

his breath hitched as he crouched down beside the bed, his heated palms hovering over your exposed thighs before finally making contact. the contrast between his warmth and your cool skin sent a shiver up his spine, his fingers instinctively pressing into the soft flesh. he spread your legs just a little more, the motion deliberate yet cautious, as if he were afraid of waking you—though the thrill of that possibility only made him throb even harder.

he carefully climbed over you, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he caged you beneath him. his face hovered mere inches from yours, close enough for him to feel the soft puffs of your breath against his lips. a quiet, needy whine escaped him before he could stop it, the sheer proximity making his restraint waver.

his hips moved on their own, grinding against your clothed cunt in a slow, desperate rut. even through the layers of fabric, the friction was electric, the heat pooling between you making his entire body tense. his cock twitched violently against the tight confines of his boxer briefs, a strangled groan caught in his throat as he bit down on his lip to muffle it.

fuck, it felt too good. the pressure, the warmth, the way his body fit so perfectly against yours—it was intoxicating. he tried to stay still, tried to hold back, but the sensation was overwhelming. he wanted more. he wanted to feel every inch of you, to press himself against your bare skin, to make that dream he had—so vivid, so fucking good—a reality.

"fuck… y/n…" he whimpered, voice barely above a whisper, yet laced with so much desperation it sent a shiver down his spine. his hips moved faster, the friction between his aching cock and your clothed heat making his head spin. his breath came out in shaky, uneven pants, his body practically trembling above you.

his eyes were squeezed shut, brows knitted together in pure bliss, his parted lips releasing soft, needy gasps. he’d touched himself countless times to the thought of you—late at night, hand wrapped tight around his cock, imagining the way you’d feel beneath him. but this… actually feeling the warmth of your cunt, even through the barrier of thin fabric, ignited something raw, something almost primal within him.

his fingers dug into your hips as he rolled his own against you, desperate for more. the sensation was unlike anything he’d ever felt before—hot, suffocating, overwhelming in the best way possible. his cock twitched uncontrollably in his boxers, every movement sending jolts of pleasure coursing through his body, making him whimper with every drag of his hips.

beneath him, your body shifted, a quiet noise escaping your lips as you stirred from your sleep. your legs twitched, your hips shifting against his, and the unintentional movement sent another sharp wave of pleasure straight to his core. his breath hitched, his grinding growing sloppier, more erratic.

your eyes fluttered open, still hazy with sleep, only to be met with the sight of sunghoon hovering over you—his flushed face twisted in pleasure, his body pressed so tightly against yours, his needy whines filling the silence of the room. even as your groggy mind tried to make sense of the situation, he didn’t stop. he couldn’t.

"y/n…" he moaned again, voice wrecked with desperation, his hips rutting against you like he was already too far gone to stop.

your half-lidded eyes stayed locked on him, watching every little expression that flickered across his face—his furrowed brows, his parted lips, the way his breath came out in shallow, needy gasps. he looked completely lost in the pleasure, his body moving on pure instinct as he continued to grind himself against your clothed cunt, each roll of his hips more desperate than the last.

a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as you reached up, your fingers trailing along his flushed skin before pulling him closer. your lips ghosted over his neck, barely brushing against the sensitive skin before you pressed soft, lingering kisses there. his body tensed instantly, a sharp gasp leaving his mouth, but you didn’t stop. you kissed, licked, and nibbled, letting your teeth scrape teasingly against his heated flesh, feeling the way his body shuddered beneath your touch.

"fuck, y/n…" he choked out, voice breaking into a high-pitched whine. his hands clutched onto your waist, fingers digging into your skin like he was trying to ground himself, but it was useless. the moment your lips latched onto that sweet spot near his collarbone, he let out a shaky moan, his hips bucking against you with even more urgency.

"please… please give me more…" he whimpered, his voice drenched in desperation, in need. his moans were getting louder, more broken, and it only made you more eager to see just how far you could push him.

you hummed against his skin, pulling back just enough to glance at his wrecked expression—his pretty eyes glazed over, his lips trembling as he swallowed down another needy sound. you dragged your nails slowly down his back, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch, before leaning in close again.

"baby… you’re so sensitive," you murmured, amusement laced in your tone. your words sent a visible shiver down his spine, a soft whimper slipping past his lips as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

he was falling apart in your hands, completely at your mercy, and you weren’t about to stop now.

you couldn’t take it anymore. the way sunghoon kept grinding against you, his desperate, needy whimpers filling the air, had your pussy completely soaked, your arousal seeping through the thin fabric of your underwear. every rut of his hips, every twitch of his cock against your clothed heat sent another wave of need surging through your body, making it impossible to hold back any longer.

without a second thought, your hands moved with urgency, fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers and tugging them down in one swift motion. his cock sprang free, thick and leaking, twitching at the sudden exposure. he let out a sharp gasp, his breath hitching when the cool air met his flushed skin. without wasting any time, you slid your own shorts down, tossing them aside as you straddled his lap.

his eyes widened slightly as you pushed him back onto the bed, his body sinking into the mattress as he let out soft, breathless gasps. his flushed chest rose and fell rapidly, his muscles tensing beneath you. the anticipation in his gaze was unmistakable, his pupils blown wide with need as he watched you wrap your fingers around his cock.

"fuck…" he whimpered, his head falling back against the pillows. his cock twitched violently in your grip, hot and throbbing in your palm as you stroked him slowly, teasingly. his whole body shuddered at the contact, his thighs tensing as he fought to keep his hips still.

"y/n, please…" he whined, his voice breaking, barely able to keep his eyes open. he was already falling apart, the way your hand worked over his length making him feel like he could lose it at any second.

you smirked, tightening your grip slightly as you pumped him with ease, watching the way his abs tensed with every stroke. "so fucking hard, huh?" you teased, your voice dripping with amusement.

he could only nod frantically, words completely failing him. his lips parted, his breath coming out in shallow, desperate pants as his fingers gripped the sheets beneath him.

"y/n… y/n, please—ahhh!" he nearly screamed as you slammed yourself down onto his cock, fully sheathing him in one swift motion.

his body jolted beneath you, his back arching off the bed as a deep, guttural moan ripped from his throat. your walls clenched around him so perfectly, so tight and warm that it made his head spin. his hands flew to your waist, gripping onto you for dear life as he struggled to keep himself together.

"y/n… please—c-can i c-cum?" he whined, voice trembling as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, his whole body shaking beneath you.

"already?" you taunted, a sly smirk playing on your lips as you kept your movements slow, torturously slow, rolling your hips over his cock in a way that had him trembling beneath you. your hands found their way to the back of his nape, fingers threading through his damp hair before tugging just hard enough to make him gasp.

"hold it," you ordered, your voice firm yet teasing, the authority in your tone making his cock twitch inside you. without another word, you picked up your pace, bouncing on him faster, harder, the lewd sound of your bodies meeting filling the room.

"s-shit… y/n…" he whimpered, his voice cracking as his grip on your waist tightened, fingertips pressing bruises into your skin. his head fell back against the pillow, jaw slack, eyes glassy with desperation. "uh—fuck, no… please…" his words were slurred, broken by ragged moans as he fought to hold himself back, his body betraying him with every needy jerk of his hips.

your walls clenched around him without mercy, squeezing him so deliciously tight that he nearly sobbed from the overwhelming pleasure. he was drowning in the sensation, in the way your heat wrapped around him, in the way you took him so perfectly—like you were made to milk him dry.

the bedroom was filled with the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, your slick coating his cock and making a mess between your thighs. mixed with that were the unrestrained whines and desperate moans spilling from sunghoon’s lips, his voice getting higher, more broken with every bounce of your hips. neither of you cared if the others in the dorm heard—hell, at this point, he was too far gone to even think about anything but you.

"fuck, y/n—please… i can't take it… it’s too much!" he cried out, his body trembling violently beneath you, his cock pulsing inside your heat as he teetered on the edge of release. his fingers dug into your skin, his thighs quivering, his eyes rolling back as he let out a strangled sob of pure pleasure.

"is this what you wanted, baby?" you whispered, voice dripping with teasing sweetness, though even you were struggling to keep it steady. your eyes fluttered shut, your breath hitching as sunghoon drove himself deeper into you, filling you so perfectly it had your head spinning. every thrust was sharp, precise, and desperate, like he was chasing something he could never quite reach.

his whines were relentless, high-pitched and needy, mixing with the deep, broken moans that spilled from his parted lips. fuck, you loved it—the way he sounded so utterly wrecked, the way his body trembled beneath you, the way he fell apart so easily just from being inside you.

but more than anything, you loved the way he looked right now. his pretty eyes were glassy, unfocused, filled with nothing but pure, unfiltered pleasure. his swollen lips quivered with every gasp, every plea, every broken moan that escaped him. and those tears—hot, glistening streaks trailing down his flushed cheeks, slipping down his jaw as his expression twisted in overwhelming bliss.

you reached out, your thumb gently brushing over his damp cheek, catching a tear before pressing your lips to the spot. "you're so fucking good, baby," you praised, your voice a breathy moan against his skin.

his whole body shuddered beneath you at your words, his hands gripping onto your waist as if he’d fall apart completely without you holding him together. "y-y/n…" he whimpered, his voice cracking, his hips stuttering as he tried to keep up with you.

he was gone—completely lost in you, drowning in the way you felt, the way you praised him, the way you took control and ruined him so perfectly.

"fuck, baby… i'm close…" you moaned, your voice breathless and dripping with need as you rode him harder, faster, chasing that intoxicating high. every bounce of your hips had his cock slamming deep into you, the tip kissing that perfect spot over and over again, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. it was heaven—the way he filled you up so completely, stretching you just right, making you feel so fucking good.

sunghoon was a mess beneath you, his body trembling, his grip on your waist tightening as his moans grew more desperate. "fuck! y/n… please, please—" he whimpered, his voice breaking into a cry as his hands dug into your skin, his strength betraying him as he took control for just a moment.

his arms flexed as he lifted you effortlessly, only to slam you back down onto his cock, making you gasp at the sudden intensity. the new angle had him hitting even deeper, his cock dragging along your walls so perfectly it had your vision going white for a second.

he couldn’t take it anymore. the way your walls clenched around him, the way you felt so fucking tight, the way you kept moaning his name—it was all too much. his body tensed beneath you, his back arching off the bed as his hips stuttered in frantic, erratic thrusts.

"ahh—y/n! fuck—!" he cried out, his voice wrecked as he spilled into you, thick, hot ropes of cum filling you up completely. his whole body shook violently, his cock twitching inside you, buried deep as he rode out his orgasm.

the feeling of him throbbing inside you, of his warmth spreading, pushed you right over the edge. your body locked up, a sharp gasp tearing from your throat as pleasure crashed over you, blinding and all-consuming.

"fuck—sunghoon!" you moaned out as your release hit, your body trembling, your legs shaking as you squirted all over him, your slick drenching his lower stomach, his thighs, his still-hard cock.

he whimpered beneath you, overwhelmed, overstimulated, but completely and utterly addicted to the way you felt.

natty’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ i hoped you enjoyed!!

#enha smut #enha x reader #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha #enhypen smut #park sunghoon #sunghoon smut #sunghoon #sub sunghoon #8th member of enhypen

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